The Need For Speed
by The Ever Smiling
Summary: *AU, OOC*(FKA: Let The Car Run) In the world of race cars and girls, Squall finds the only girl that matters to him... But she wants nothing to do with him *Squinoa*
1. Getting Signed

Let The Car Run

A/N: So, I guess the world of racing isn't safe anymore. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Anyways…  So this is my second story and I've never played the game yet. Oh, the irony of it all.

Disclaimer: Following the footsteps of those who dun it before me, this disclaimer will last the entire course of the story. I don't own FF8 or any of the characters because someone beat me to it. Also, I don't own any of the cars I mention in this story… *sarcastically* I wonder why.

_Squall's point of view_

**_~1: Getting Signed ~_**

If luck ever truly existed, I didn't need it. Everyone I race against these days is too untalented to ever be able to win a major event that counts. They all try to beat their best score, rather than run the guy off the road.  Out there, on the track, you don't race against your trials, you race against those savages in their fancy cars who will do anything to stop you from winning… Even crashing your car. I should know… I'm one of them. 

My name is Squall Leonheart and I have been racing since I was a child of 5 years old. All right, so Game Boy doesn't count, but still. When I first played Top Gear GT Championship, I knew that driving a car was what I wanted to do. Fast cars, pretty girls and a whole lot of cash were enough to convince me that racing was what I wanted to do.

Sitting behind the wheel of a go-cart for the first time caught me hook-line and sinker. My older brother took me with him for fun. At the age of nine, I experienced my first adrenaline rush. The hum of the go-cart for the first time rings in my ears today as I think back on those happy times. My brother was nineteen and I thought the world of him. He was my idol; I wanted to be him. He had a lot of friends, was top student, captain of various sports teams and had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. Then he had to go and get himself killed.

I don't want to remember that fateful day when I came home to find two officers sitting in the living room with my mother and father crying their tears. My first thought was that these men had made a mistake. My brother wasn't dead; he was still at football practice. But like I said, I wish not to remember that day when my life was ruined. 

So here I stand today, accepting another trophy that I won. First place, not bad. Not bad at all. I wasn't being sponsored at the moment; I was still in the amateur world. The car I race today is my own. My father bought it for my fifteenth birthday. Seven years later, it still runs like it used to. It's a beauty. I don't have my own mechanic; they cost too much. Besides, I grew up dreaming about cars and reading all the car magazines I can find. Today, I can see my own face on the cover of half of them.

I know that I'm good, but I didn't think I was good enough for the pros. Obviously I was wrong.

"Son, how would you like to be sponsored by Viagra?" Some fifty-year old man asked me. I still think that he's using that stuff himself.

"Um, I think I'll consider it, sir. Thank you for the offer." Hah! There was no way in Hell that I'd agree to have "Viagra" slapped all over my beloved car. 

The next guy had a little more luck.

"Hi. My name is Norman Roscoe, the president of Pepsi, the soft drink company. We'd like to sponsor you." All right. The balding, smartly dressed man had caught my attention. I was getting somewhere with this.

"All right." I said sounding interested- mainly because I was.

"We have agreed that- should you take us up on this offer- to give you one million bucks a year, free access to the garage… Even your own mechanic if you wish, and all that you have to do is sport our name on your car." His words hung like some poor girl who was just accused of being a witch in the middle of a puritan town. There was a catch; I could feel it in the air and it was about to hit me in the head.

"But…" I started for the guy.

"But you have to get rid of the car you're driving right now. It's a nice car and all, but it's a little slow. There's no way that it will win against any of the other cars. And besides, a driver is only as good as his car." The guy said to me. Did he just say what I think he said?

"I liked your offer until I heard that I had to scrap my car. I can't do that. That is my very first car and I've had a lot of fond memories and more to come with that car. There is no way I'm going to get rid of it." I said. Those fond memories were some of the best I've ever had. I won a lot of drag races with that car and a lot of back seat adventures… If you know what I mean.

"Well, you have to move past all your backseat rides to get into the big leagues, boy. So, when can we expect you to sign the contract?" Eh asked. How dare he ask that after he just told me to move past my car?

"Never. Have a good day, Mr. Roscoe." I said as the next guy came up to me to make his offer.

Now this guy was everything you wanted in a contract agreement.

"Hi. My name is Henry Billings, CEO of coke, the other soft drink company. The same company that manufactured the car that you currently drive, I believe." He said and I nodded my head. 

"We would like to sponsor you. The deal is short and sweet. I'm sure that you would like what we have to offer." This guy said. He wasn't very old; maybe about thirty-five years old with brown hair and green eyes. I didn't have any worries about dandruff or 'Viagra' being slapped all over my car.

"All right. You have my attention. Go on." I said politely. Normally I would have been more sarcastic, but this man held my career in his hands. I had developed some respect for him because he had not yet called me 'Boy' or 'Son'. I was beginning to like the guy.

            "Well, it goes like this: we'll give you one million bucks a year, free garage services and a mechanic- unless you're a 'do-it-yourself' kind of guy-, your own crew and all _plus _your own place- it's a pretty damn nice place if you ask me- as a sign of our gratitude. We'll even throw in a couple of back-up cars and all the extra parts you require. However these cars have company logo all over it; that the only requirement." Billings concluded. It was a pretty sweet deal. There weren't any hidden agreements as of yet and the conditions were pretty straightforward.

I ran the terms over again in my mind before I finally came to a decision. "When do get a copy of the contract?" I said enthusiastically. 

***

            I sat here, in a really nice conference room in a comfy leather chair beside my lawyer. The room was furnished with a dozen chairs, a long oak table and a carpet. The tall windows behind the head of the table let the sunlight in, illuminating the entire room. 

            We waited for about fifteen minutes before Mr. Billings and his lawyer finally arrived. His lawyer carried a portfolio from which various paper corners stuck out. I hoped the contract wasn't one of those papers; most likely it was.

            "Welcome. Without further ado, I think we should get down to business. This is my lawyer, Jeremy. Jeremy, this is the future racer, Squall Leonheart." Billings introduced us. 

            "Really? I saw you race yesterday. That was a really great run. Those crashes were amazing.  And that is one sweet car you drive!" How old was this guy? He didn't look like he was a lawyer. Fact is… He didn't look like he even went through law school. 

I suppose the whole 'suit-and-tie' thing was supposed to cover that up, but it wasn't working when he was saying things like, "One sweet car". I thought lawyers were supposed to be stiff… Like the one I have. 

Still, I remained polite and replied, "Thank you. They were horrible drivers anyways. They didn't deserve to go near a car."

The four of us laughed over my comment. It was nice to know that not everyone was as stiff as they were expected to be.

"Anyways, about the contract… Would you like a copy for yourself?' Jeremy said.

"Sure. You never know when I might want to do a little… Light… Reading…" I said as I saw the contract. From the middle of the portfolio, Jeremy pulled out this fifty-page, single spaced document. Oddly, he began to laugh when he saw my reaction to it.

"This isn't it. It's the document needed when you sign a contract. This is the contract." He said.

To my relief, it was only a couple of pages. My lawyer read over it and then passed it to me. There was nothing like double-checking for loopholes. To my immense surprise, there was no fine print, nothing on the back. The contract was clean. 

Jeremy produced a pen and I signed my name. There. Everything was done and I was now being sponsored. I felt so accomplished.

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A/N: Yeah, I know I said I wouldn't start until I was done the other one, but I couldn't resist. So tempting. So I have low self-restraint level… Who cares? Ok, maybe I do… But I'm working on it!


	2. The Invitation

A/N: Well, threats on my laptop, stuffed animals and movies have been made, so I figured that I'd write the second chapter soon. So, here it is. Also, I decided that being signed to a car company was a little too hard to write about because there are too many restrictions… So I said screw it and signed him to Coke! So, on with the story!

**_~ 2: The Invitation ~_**

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I was signed and ready to compete in my first pro race. This wasn't going to be easy. I was only allowed to be in one at a time and there were five of them at the same time.

The first was being held in Esthar, just outside the city walls. The race would be quite easy because the list of competitors wasn't very long. If I accepted to be in that race, then I would look like the guy who was steadily trying to climb to the top. That wasn't my style. I'm the type of guy who wants a quick trip to the top… the type that magically appears at number one. That may be arrogant, but it's in my nature. It was in my brother's too.

The second was held near the Centra ruins. It would prove to be an average course. There wasn't an off-terrain course. That meant one hundred percent asphalt courses. Those weren't necessarily my strongest points. Believe it or not, I'm a better driver in the harder courses. This makes absolutely no sense; but why should it matter?                                                                                                                                        

The next one took place outside of Trabia. Need I say more? I wasn't going to drive in an ice bow so soon.

The fourth one takes place outside of Dollet. It was kind of cold there. Not exactly my idea of fun. There were a couple of off-road courses, but that didn't make up for the other six that were on a track. Sure, these races weren't like Grand Tourismo, but there had to be some sort of diversity in the courses.

The fifth was probably the hardest one that I could find. Sharp turns, off road, all the best drivers there. All of them were trying to prove that they were the best.  These were the type of people that had a certain arrogant air about them… My kind of people..

Just as I was about to sign my name on the invitation, my manager walked in. I never had a manager before now. I guess that I probably need one to manage my affaires. But it wasn't only my manager that walked in; there were three other people behind him. 

Walking in behind Geoffrey was a blond boy with a really weird tattoo on the right side of his face, a brown- haired guy with a cowboy hat, and behind him was a short girl with short brown hair curled upwards. Her hairdo, the guy's tattoo and the cowboy hat were a little weird… Sort of like they were out of place. Who were these people? Why are they here?

Geoffrey seemed to be able to read my mind as he introduced us. "Squall, this is your team. The people at Coke don't like to send in one lone driver; we like to send in a crew… You know, a team. We do understand that racing is an 'All for one and one for all' type of sport, but we like to have more than one stab at the jackpot. Think of in terms of publicity. Anyways, this is your team. They are the other drivers that we have signed with us. This is Zell Dincht." He said pointing at the blond guy. Great, every tattoo artist's dram, I thought to myself. "He has been with us for about a year now." 

I stuck my hand out for him to shake it, but I got a low five instead. This guy was off the wall. "Dude, no stiffs allowed!" He said as he slapped it with a lot of force. Ouch! I offered a smile and turned to the next guy.

"This is Irvine Kinneas. He's been with us for a month and he's a pretty good driver. You ought to be careful." He said. How dare he say that to me?! I was already beginning dislike this guy who was supposed to be our manager. He can go and burn in hell.

He turned to the girl and introduced us. The girl was kind of hyper. She was beginning to scare me. She looked as she was going to jump around the room very soon. "This is Selphie Tilmit. She signed wit us the same day as you did."

I looked at her again. For some strange reason, her name sounded familiar. Then it all clicked. "You're the girl that won second, aren't you?"

"Damn straight!" She said. Now she was really earning the title of odd.

"Anyways, let's do what we came here to do. These were the invites from all the races to take place this month. You are all to decide which one you would like to participate in. There must be at least two of you in the same race. That is the only requirement. Squall, have you picked which one you would like to participate in?" Geoffrey asked me. This guy had some nerve.

"Yeah, I did. The Tourista 300 sounds good. You know... The one hosted by Mr. Caraway." I said. The table fell quiet. Everyone stopped and stared at me. Even that Selphie girl wasn't bouncing in her seat. "What?" I asked innocently.

"You're going for something that's way out of your league." Geoffrey said after everyone had finally accepted that I had said what I said.

"Actually, this guy is really good at the off-road courses. I should know; I had the pleasure of racing against him. Seeing as the Tourista 300 has the most off-terrain courses, I think that this race suits him… I'll even go with him." Selphie spoke up. I was beginning to like this girl. She was all right: not so scary anymore.

"Well, now that there is the minimum requirement of two racers, I guess we can sign this now." I said as I picked up the pen once more. No one was going to stop me.

"Wait! If you're going to sign up for that race, then at least cast a sideways glance at the list of competitors. Trust me on that one." Zell said, "I'm signing up for the one in Centra… Ruins 400." 

"I guess I have to go with Zell, then, huh?" Irvine said, "Hey, it sounds like an easy race. No off-road courses and it's all on asphalt. There aren't going to be any big shots there because they'll all be at the Tourista. Good luck guys!"

Selphie and I signed our names on the form while Zell and Irvine signed theirs. Tourista 300, here I come! I'm going to win this thing. I will have to place in an order somewhere for some NOS and some new car parts.  I guess that while I'm at it, I can order a few cars. The 1995 Supra. I really like that. It's pretty. 

Geoffrey took our papers and left. This was what it was all about, huh? I guess that I could get used to this. This was going to be a great year. 

Geoffrey can back in suddenly and tossed me a set of keys. "To your new bachelor pad." He said and left again.

I caught the keys and looked at my team… Team? Whatever. I don't want to think about that now. I smiled triumphantly, "Wanna come?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The place was huge. It was really nice and there was no way that I would be able to occupy such a large area. I figured that in the basement, I was going to put my private collection of cars there. Starting with the Supra… 

The place was already furnished… To my taste. Weird. Well actually, not really. The décor was modern and the hard wood flood was polished to perfection.  Everything was neat… Just the way I like it. There was a gigantic skylight in the ceiling of the living room and one above the hall on the third floor. Three floors? These guys really know how to treat their drivers.

The house was equipped with a stereo system, two computers- do I really need that many? -, a hot tub, Jacuzzi, indoor pool and a king-sized bed. I could get used to living here. There were clothes in the closets, sheets in the linen closets and food in the pantries. How did they do it? Who cares? I like it here. 

There is total of twenty-one rooms and two hundred acres. They were too kind. Oh well.

Selphie squealed as she looked around, Zell kept yelling out 'Sweet!' as he inspected and Irvine looked like he was being forced to go shopping. Envy goes a long way. I like being the source of it.

An hour later, they left, saying that they had to go pack and do some stuff. Whatever, it was fine with me. I went down to the pool and did a few strokes, the stereo cranked up to the max before I received a phone call.

"Hello?" I said into the receiver.

"Like your new place, Squall?" Mr. Billings said on the other end of the line.

"Oh yes. This place is really nice and big. Thank you very much. You guys are really generous." I flattered him. Maybe I did sound like a kiss up, but I was being honest. If only you could see it.

"No need to thank us… It was in the contract. Anyways, I have a meeting to go to. I talk to you later. Bye." He said and I heard a click on the line. I hung up and did couple more strokes before getting out and ordering some parts for my car. This was going to be some race.

I then went upstairs to pack my things. The stereo was still on and various artists could be heard through out the house on a hill in Esthar. Believe it or not, I actually received a complaint from one of my neighbors that it was too loud. What was he talking about? He was so far away! What a dipshit!

As soon as I finished packing, I later discovered that were a whole bunch of secret passages in the house. I felt like a king in a castle, overturning paintings and pulling back books on the shelves. This was going to be fun. 

After a while, I found a passage that led to a pool table… And a loaded bar. These people knew me so well. I played pool and sipped some brandy until I felt the pangs of my stomach calling for supper. 

Not knowing what to make, I called for a pizza. Soon after I called, a pimply-faced pizza delivery boy showed up at my door, admiring the house.

"Dude, this is some sweet crib!" he said as he eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets. 

"Yeah, it is. Can I have my pizza now?" I asked impatiently. You can't really blame me; I was starving.

"Oh! Right. Here you are. That'll be-" He started, but I cut him off and shoved a twenty in his hand and told him to keep the change.

The guy left and drove away.

Peace and solitude, a great way to spend the evening.

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A/N: I like the house… I want the house. Anyways, I advise you to NOT look at a Supra because I did and I'm currently in a state of longing. *Eyes glaze over and begins to talk all trance like* Must find a way to go to Houston… Must steal car… Must get a Supra… *sees the review button and snaps out of her trance* Right. Um… I'm all right, really. Anyways, this is the part where you fulfill your reader-ly duties and write and submit a review. Thank you all. 

P. S: Sam, I cave. Reviews make the world go round! But I don't feed off of them… Yet.

P.P.S: A last final note, I uploaded the first chapter another two times for only one thing… To change the company that sponsors Squall. It a very important detail… I think. It all depends on if I write it out to be. Type a capital Y for yes or a capital N for no at the end of your review… I'm joking about that voting thing… BUT YOU DO HAVE TO REVIEW! It's absolutely CRITICAL that you DO review…. Ok, I'm finished now.


	3. The Best

A/N: Ok… Well, people have been telling me that they want Squall to meet Rinoa…. But being the evil person I am, I've decided to make you all wait. *Grins triumphantly* unless I can't think of anything to write… You_ might_ be in luck. So anyways… Let's just see where my imagination takes the story. 

**_~ 3: The Best ~_**

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The ride from Esthar to Deling wasn't a short one. Ten hours in a car wasn't my idea of how I'd spend my Thursday. Oh well. I might as well just get used to it because I will be doing this for the next ten years or more.

I looked out the window, watching the countryside flash by. The sky was blue and there was nothing but the open road ahead of us. The air that infiltrated the bus through the open window smelled like it was freshly cut. 

Taking the seat in front of me, Selphie turned around and began to talk about… I don't remember what she was talking about. That is, before she, "- and I heard that his daughter has a _really_ nice ass!" I whirled my head around and looked at her. She got my attention.

"Finally. I got your attention. Is that all it took? I thought that it would've been harder." She grinned at me.

"Oh. So tell me more about his daughter." I said. She had me hooked.

"No. You don't want to get mixed up with her. She has certain qualities about her that suggests that she's chaste." She told me. Who uses the word 'chaste' nowadays?

"Chaste? What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. Does that mean she a virgin or does it mean otherwise? I don't want to think about the 'otherwise'.

"It means that she just broke up with her boyfriend of about two years. Supposedly she walked in on him with some other girl. Ever since, she swore off men." She said.

"So does that mean she swings that way?" Damn. Oh well. There are plenty of other fish in the sea.

"No. It means that she needs time. Besides, I don't think you'd want her to disfigure your lovely face." What was that supposed to mean?

"It already is." I said, pointing at my scar.

"How did you get it?" She asked.

"I got in a fight after they told me my brother was dead. The doctors said I was lucky that it wasn't a little to the left." I simply said- almost like it was less of a deal than it was. I don't even know why I said that. She was probably going to ask me about my brother now. 

Instead, she got up and went to the back of the bus. "I'll be right back. Those six cups of coffee are catching up with me." She called as she walked off.

The impatience was beginning to get to me. I couldn't stand it anymore; my ass fell asleep! 

Getting up from my seat, I walked to the front of the bus to where the buss driver was seated. 

"How much time left before we get there?" I felt the past coming back to get me again. I felt like I was once again on the soccer field, asking the ref how much time was left until the end of the game. I never really did develop a liking towards the sport; my parents made me take it up in a worthless effort to get my mind off racing. They just can't accept that I have a need for speed-not the drug.

"Sit back, son. We still have another two hours to go. Nothing like waking up at the crack of dawn, huh? It was a beauty." He said, focussing all of his attention on the road again.

I walked back to my seat and sat down. Two hours? I looked to the back of the bus and decided that I should probably pretend to sleep because she might come back and start to play 'Twenty-One Questions' about my brother. 

Why is it that I can't stop thinking about my brother these past few days? I know… But I'll never admit it. Maybe later, but not now.

I shut my eyes before she came back. I wasn't asleep but I still heard her swear over it.

"Damn coffee! Why now? The conversation was just getting somewhere! Damnit!" were the last words before I actually drift off into a sleepless dream.

***

"Hey! Squall! Wake up!" Selphie said as she shook me. Where are we? Was I asleep for that long?

"Where are we?" I asked groggily. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I saw that the sun was still high in the sky. Completely forgetting about the time difference, I began to feel very confused.

"We're there! We're in Deling! The race starts Saturday and there's a pre-race briefing tomorrow where all the racers meet and Mr. Caraway gives his speech. Who knows; maybe his daughter will be there!" She said excitedly.

"How is it that you know all this stuff?" I asked her.

"Well, while you were asleep, I took the liberty of reading the program. It's a great way to spend three hours. I think I read it three times to keep myself busy." She explained, "Oh! And we get to meet all the other drivers and oh my god! This is going to be so much fun!!!!"

Right. Fun. With a girl. That probably means shopping. Great. She better find herself some friends because I'm not going with her. That's probably the last thing that I want to do… Unless it's car shopping.

"Oh! And you could meet him there!" She said.

"Who?" I asked.

'The best." Are you kidding me? There's already someone who claims to be the best? What an arrogant jerk.

"Listen, I know what you're thinking. He doesn't claim to be the best… He just simply is. Anyways, he's only the best for the time being. We'll take him down." She had an ego just as big as my own! Incredible!

"Ok." I said.

Suddenly, something or someone out the window caught her attention. "Oh my god! That's him! The guy who's the best driver… For the time being."

"What's his name?" I asked.

"Seifer Almasy. I think… Yeah. He is the guy… He's Caraway's daughter's ex."

Great. Just great.

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A/N: Who saw it coming? I did! I wrote it! Maha! Anyways, please review. Lemme know what you think… And be a little creative… GO NUTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now, direct your attention to the little box on the bottom left and push the 'Go' button. Come on! You can do it! I know you can…. Uh. That sounded a little wrong. I think I'll go now. *Leaves* 


	4. Breakfast

A/N: I was thinking again (I seem to do that a lot these days) and I decided that-due to a request I received- in order to make the chapter a little longer, I'll write half the chapter in Squall's POV and the other in someone else's. Now that I got that out of the way, when you reach the end, please direct your attention to the 'Go' button at the bottom and let me know what you think about this chapter. Anyways, That's all for now. So, on with the figment of my imagination!

**_~ 4: Breakfast ~_**

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Squall's POV 

So maybe this wasn't going to be so bad. The hotel room wasn't all that bad. Who am I trying to kid? The hotel room was awful! There was one room, two beds, no wall and I was sharing it with a girl. The racers had their own room, the technicians went two to a room and mechanics their own. 

I never have and still don't see the difference between a mechanic and a technician. All that I know is that you can't mix the two of them up because they take it quite personally. They end up saying that it's like saying that Galbadia and Esthar are the same place. Right…. I looked up the definition of both in the dictionary and found the same definition for both words. Sure… Whatever they say. Some of them still live with their mothers… I guess that this is just a trip for them to get away. 

Anyways, last night was probably one of the worst nights of my life. I don't even know how I survived the night. 

It all started when Selphie and I got our rooms.  We received the word from the receptionist that there was only one room registered for both of our names. I got really mad but took the keys anyways. We walked to the elevator only to discover that it was out of use due to repairs. Great. We had to haul our suitcases all the way to the tenth floor.

When we got there, we saw that the floor was wet because the janitor decided to pass the mop. Great. Just great. We slowly made our way across the floor single file when, all of a sudden; Selphie slipped and fell on top of me. The crash was painful and all she could do was laugh while she sat there, on top of me. No apologies, just pure laughter. I failed to see what was so funny in such a situation.

"Get off of me." I growled. I wasn't amused. The only time that I was somewhat happy yesterday was when Selphie told me about Caraway's daughter.

She stopped laughing and got off of me at once. We walked to the room and saw the taste-less decorations. This wasn't happening to me. There was one bathroom, two beds, a T.V and no wall. Great. Just great. 

Before I could drop my bags, Selphie ran out from behind me and jumped on the bed closest to the bathroom. Damn. I didn't want the one with a view; I wanted the one closest to the john! Whatever. It wasn't much of a deal when you think about it. I dropped my bags beside the bed and crashed down on the stiffest bed ever. Great, I was going to have a stiff back the whole tournament. I think that I would have been better off camping out in the tour bus. 

"Jump on it. It'll make it softer." Selphie suggested, "Or, if you want, I'll jump on it for you."

"No, it's all right. I'll jump on it myself." I said as I got up and began to jump on the bed. It wasn't half bad. It was somewhat oddly amusing… Before the mattress crashed through the frame.  

"That can't be a good thing." Selphie said as she stopped jumping. She got off the bed and came over to see what went wrong. She lifted the covers only to discover that the mattress had shifted towards the left while I was jumping.

So I picked up the mattress and replaced it on the frame. I then walked over to my bag and pulled out a pair of flannel pajama pants and my traveling kit containing my entire essentials for hygiene and walked into the bathroom. I closed the door and I heard Selphie yell at me not to come out until she said so.

I smirked and got changed.  I then proceeded to brush my teeth only to discover that I had forgot my toothbrush. Great. 

I called out to Selphie if she had and extra toothbrush.  I heard her laugh hysterically and yell out that she did. The muffled sounds of her rummaging through her bag and running over could be heard through the thin wall of the bathroom. She knocked on the door and I opened it slightly and stuck my hand out for it. I felt the slim cardboard box in my hand and closed the door while I muttered "Thanks" I brushed my teeth and walked out the bathroom, clothes in hand and shirtless.

I heard her gasped and I wondered why. I mean, I am a guy after all and we are allowed to walk around shirtless… Aren't we? She turned beet red and began to giggle. 

"What?" I asked.

"You're not shy, are you?" she said as she pointed at me.

"No. I'm going to sleep. Good night." I said as I hoped in the bed, threw the blankets over myself and closed my eyes.

My trip into slumber was disturbed by the voice from the TV. She had turned on the TV began to watch some sitcom or another. 

I tried to drown the voices out by thinking about the bliss of sleep. My attempts were in vain because she began to laugh at the jokes that seemed to never end. Great. I wasn't going to be able to sleep until she turned that damned thing off. 

About an hour later, she turned the TV off and went to sleep. Finally! I was beginning to think that she ran on batteries or something like that. 

It didn't take her long to fall asleep. I knew that because very soon, she began to snore. This caught me off guard because snoring mainly occurs when you're either old or obese. She was neither… Unless there was a minor detail that I was never told about. Great. Just great. 

I knocked on the wall to pass the time and to try to wake her up. It half worked. Time passed and soon it was midnight. At that time, she stopped snoring. This was my time to fall asleep. 

I fell asleep and that's what brings us to today. Late. The welcome meeting was going to start in an hour and the place was downtown. Plus, we had no clue where it was. To make things worse, Selphie was still in the bathroom taking her sweet precious time applying her make up. Good Hyne, why are you doing this to me? All the karma in the universe couldn't help me now.

We went downstairs and saw a sign that said that the welcome ceremony was going to be here, in the hotel, at the reception hall to the left of the elevators. Ok. We weren't late; we were half an hour early. The doors wouldn't open until ten minutes before and I was starving. Great. Just great.

"Did you know that it was downstairs?" I asked Selphie. After all, she _did read the program __three times n the bus yesterday._

"Yeah. That's why I took my time." She replied with a huge grin. We took a seat in the waiting area and began to talk.

***

Rinoa's POV 

Another year, another race. Life went on and this vicious cycle never ends. Last year, there was an entire army of stuck up pricks called drivers and this year, there was more. Every year, they seem to multiply. Great. That's just what I need. 

I learned my lesson: _never date a driver._ What a great lesson to learn the hard way. I still hate Seifer for what he did and he thinks that if he wins the race again this year, he can win my heart as well. What a stupid theory. 

I still don't know why my father requires my presence there anyways. 

"_To improve my image." He told me. And what image was that? One that says that we're all close in this family? Yeah right! My mother's dead, my father's too busy to even take the time to talk to me about personal issues. He thinks that if he hires me as his consultant, it'd make up for all those years he spent late at work, breaking promises.  _

The worst part is that my mom died in a car accident- _racing accident- and he's still planning races. I mean, sure the cars are all really nice, but they only made me develop a craving to drive behind the wheel of a car someday. _

Late at night, I go out to the track and take one of the cars that my dad keeps as a trophy prize and take it out for a drive. The guards at night know me pretty well and usually greet me with a line like, "Back again, huh? Have fun." Or "Yesterday wasn't enough?". They're such sweethearts. They don't agree with the idea about me racing other drivers, but are fine with me behind the wheel during the after-hours. They too know that everyone needs an adrenaline rush… Just others need it more often.

I thought about last night's drive while I get ready to go.  Then the notion of seeing Seifer once more pops in my head and takes out all thoughts of bliss. Damn him!

As I walked out, I plastered a fake smile and walk to the porch, taking a light coat and put my shoes on. Nothing fancy. Just a lilac skirt and a baby blue T-shirt.

My dad walks in the porch and greets me with a stiff "Good Morning." Two whole words. Wow!

"Don't say it."  He says to me.

I look at him with mock confusion and ask, "Say what, Dad?"

"Whatever it is that you were thinking." He says as he walks out the door, "Coming?"

I follow him out the door and we drive to the hotel in silence. Not a single comment about the other drivers on the road, nothing on the weather… Nothing. 

We get to the hotel and see that the waiting area is full of drivers. We walk in and dad greets the drivers in a cheerful manner. Why can't he be like that with me?

Suddenly, someone catches my eye. It's a girl seated across a guy with the nicest eyes I have ever seen. There's a girl driver? Cool! I casually walk over to the seated couple but halfway there, someone grabs my arm rather roughly.

I turn around to see the person that I least wanted to see… Seifer. I glared at him and told him to get off of me.

"Aww… No happy welcome? I feel so unloved." He whines.

"You should because I hate you." I said gruffly as I pulled my arm away and began to walk once more towards the girl. Once again, I feel him grab onto my arm.

"Look, I'm really sorry for what I did.  Promise it won't happen again. Please, just give me another chance. Please?" He says as he gives me the "Sad Puppy Dog" face.

"Fat chance. You were seeing her for a month! I asked you many times before if you were seeing someone else and all those times you said you weren't! You lied to me! Besides, if I gave you a second chance, you would probably break my heart again. Just leave me alone." I said as I turned again and walk towards the girl again.

"But, I love you." I heard Seifer say. I didn't stop. I just kept walking, pretending that he wasn't there.

I finally made my way to the girl and the guy with the nice eyes.

"Hi, my name is Rinoa Heartilly." I said as I extended my arm to her. "Are you another driver here?"

"Hi. My name's Selphie Tilmitt. Yeah, I'm a driver." She said as she shook my hand.

I saw the guy look up at me and blink a few times. What? Did I suddenly sprout a third eye? I hate it when that happens! (That was a joke, by the way)

"Is there something on my face?" I asked the guy.

"No. It's just that you're really gorgeous." He said. I blushed.

Just then, someone called out the word "Breakfast" and they got up and we made our way to the reception hall. 

"I'll talk to you guys later." I said as I made my way to the front and took a seat near the podium.

My father walked up to the podium and began his speech. Great. Another one to _listen to. _

"Welcome, gentlemen to-" He started but someone cut him off and pointed to Selphie. "Oh right. Sorry. Gentlemen and ladies to the Tourista 300. This year, the track is even harder than last year's and longer too. I hope that you all enjoy the race and have a great time. Oh! And one last word before you all attack the buffet table: Drive your car like you stole it. Don't worry about the paint job or you'll lose. So, enjoy!" he said as he left the podium.

Wow! That was shorter than last year's. I smiled as I remember how one of the drivers last year fell asleep.

Oh well. I got up and walked to the back of the room to dig in.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: Well, there you are. Hope you liked it. Please review!__


	5. Breakfast and Seductive Looks… They’rrrr...

A/N: Sorry this took so long to write. I am trying my best to balance writing this story and schoolwork… But it's not working. Haven't updated in the last twenty-four days. Sorry. Anyways, hope you like it because I don't thin it's quite up to par. Anyways, on with the story! 

**_5: Breakfast and Seductive Looks… They'rrrre Greeeeeeeeeaaaaaat!_**

Squall's POV 

Did I just say that? I don't believe that I just said that. I mean, who is **that** blatant these days? Who uses the word blatant? Obviously I do. Anyways, as I was complaining… I still can't believe I actually said that! "No, you're just gorgeous." Good grief! What am I supposed to do now? I can't talk to her! She'll probably think that I'm some sort of loser that can't get a girl or something like that!

Ahem… My brother once told me not to dwell on the past and up to this point in time, I always listened to him. I mean, he was the coolest guy in the school and I was his follower. Anyways, continuing with my sad story, He also told me never to say exactly what I was thinking at that exact point in time. Well, I think I need a time out because I haven't been listening. I just tossed the rules of playing it cool out the window in the span of 3.5 seconds. Good job, Squall! Pat yourself on the back.

So standing in line behind this big, muscley guy, waiting to put some food on my plate isn't helping either. I'm hungry and this guy is taking his sweet precious time. But if I piss him off, I'll probably get out of this place in a body bag. Great.

I've always wondered, who eats pizza for breakfast? I mean, yeah, sure, I will… When it's leftovers and there's nothing else to eat, but when you order or make a pizza for breakfast, that's just plain old weird… But I still can't believe I said that.

Suddenly, there's a tap on my shoulder. Great. Who else am I going to screw up with? Maybe it'll be one of the organizers that have a potbelly and I'll end up blurting out, "I think you're hot!" 

Not wanting to turn around, my reflexes kick in, automatically turning me against the will of my better judgement. Damn! Why me? Can't you people see that I have the luck of a squirrel on a freeway? Leave. Me. Alone.

Great. My day just couldn't get any worse. Who should appear before me with probably one of the most menacing glares that I've ever seen in my life but that blond guy from before. What was his name again? Steven? Seefer? Siter? Whatever.

"You." He starts off. Not one of the most brilliant people out there, huh? "Stay away-"

"From my girl." I finish for him with a smirk. Oh damn. Why did I just do that? He's probably going to try to beat me up or something.

"Good boy." He says as he tries to mess my hair up as if he were trying to pet a dog. Hah! Good luck! **_No one_** touches the hair. I back up, letting the reflexes that I have known for so long kick in. 

He shrugs and continues to threaten me if he should ever catch me with '_his_ girl'. Right. Who was _his girl_? I knew very well about whom he was talking but I decided that my day couldn't get any worse, so I went for it.

"Congrats. You know, you're smarter than you-" He started, but I cut him off. There was just no point in letting him continue to _try_ to look smart.

"Who _is _your girl?" I asked, looking utterly confused.

"Well then. I guess I was wrong. Just stay away from Rinoa Heartilly. She's mine." He said possessively. I wasn't going to let him walk all over me.

"Oh. Her. Are you talking about the girl that gave me a seductive look?" I said very loudly, attracting the attention of the room, "That girl that had a lot of trouble getting you off her arm? The one that gave you one of the dirtiest looks of all time?" I stopped for a pause. He was giving me the death glare, but I didn't let it phase me.

Delivering the final blow, I said, "She ain't your girl and your fly is open." I said as I walked away. Suddenly, I wasn't very hungry and something was telling me to get out of there. Naturally, my body did not respond to the orders that my brain sent out.

"_Who_ gave _you_ a 'seductive look'?" I heard a really agitated voice come from behind me.

Oh great. Just when I thought life couldn't get any worse…. But then again, I was asking for it before…. Still…. Hyne must hate me… Damn.

***

_Rinoa's POV_

He didn't just say what I thought he did, did he? But that doesn't matter… Does it? But he wasn't talking about me, was he? I mean, honestly. Who goes around saying things like that?

He turned around slowly and hesitantly, almost as if he knew that I was right behind him. Heh. This was going to be quite amusing.

"Oh… Um…" He stammered.

Just then, being the lucky bastard he is, the PA sounded through the reception hall.

"Will all drivers participating in the Tourista 300 please come to the parking lot. Your cars are blocking the entrance to the hotel."

The room cracked up and the 'You're Gorgeous' guy looked at me and left in a hurry.

"Well then. Don't wanna get my car towed. See ya later!" he said as he left.

What a moron. This wasn't going to be the last of it, mark my words. I'm going to get the truth out of him, blatant complements or not.  This race starts tomorrow and ends Tuesday. For four whole days that arrogant bastard is going to be here. Then again, all the other drivers here are arrogant.  But still, none of them were arrogant enough to say such a thing.

I still don't know why I'm making such a big fuss about it though. It doesn't make sense. Oh well. I don't wanna know. Maybe it's just one of those things that you look back on in life and just wonder why you felt that way or how you came to let it go. Whatever. I'm going too deep.

I ran out after him, not letting it go. This wasn't going to be the last of it. 

My shoes clicked furiously after him on the marble floor.  Innocent bystanders in the hall fled to the sides and out of my way, seeing as I looked like Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality after she walked out of the high-tech beauty salon thing…. Right before she fell... Point is that I was pretty pissed off and the way I walked showed it.

The doors swung open and I wasn't far behind the crowd of drivers finding their cars…. Funny how I didn't remember this part from last year, or any of the years before it. 

Anyways, I scanned the crowd, looking for the brown-haired guy in the crowd.  It's funny how you never realize that there are so many people in one place until you're looking for someone.

"Oh my God! Squall! What're you doing here?!" I heard a really ditzy voice shriek amongst the crowd. 

That voice…. I recognized it from somewhere…. Hm…. Oh yeah! I know who it was…. But I didn't- and still don't- want to know who it was. Sheryl Mears, the town slut.  She doesn't like me because of…. Well…. It doesn't really matter. The point is that she doesn't like me and I don't like her. That's it and that the end of the story.

Moving past the squeaky interruption, I continued to search for the cheeky bastard in the sea of people…. And I found him. Woohoo! Score: Him:0; Me:1. Heh!  It's a great way to start the day.

I calmly made my way over to him…. Only to realize who it was standing next to him…. And currently hugging him.  Fuck! Why _her_ of all people?!

I was about to walk away before I saw the look on his face. Pure terror and disgust! Hah! I could've sworn I saw the words, "Help me please! Get her off of me!" written across his face.

"Hey! Rinoa! Help me please!" I heard him call out, as I was about to leave the horrific scene laid out before my virgin eyes.

"Rinoa?!" I heard her yell out my name with pure venom dripping from her voice as she let go of him.  Great, just fucking great.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: It took me so long to write this and it turned out all weird. It may have been crappy, but it was necessary. Anyways, I know I haven't been a good little author, but please be a good reviewer and review. I love you all! (In **_THAT_** way… Nah. I'm just joking. Hehhehhehheh)

P.S: Oh yeah! I forgot! I **_DON'T _**own the movie Miss Congeniality or Sandra Bullock… I still wonder why…. NOT!


	6. Barry White and Taken Opportunities

A/N: Ok. Well, I'm sorry to all my readers for the EXTREMELY LONG wait but a few unseen bumps in the road came and yeah. No one can predict writer's blocks. It seems to have something to do with the positions of the moon. And right when I got a really good idea and was about to capitalize on it, I got grounded. I'm really sorry and I will try to pick up the pace on the updates. Anyways, this chapter is only semi-odd… So it might not be that bad. Who knows? Maybe someone'll think it to be worthwhile or something… Instead of the filler that it is.

**_6: Barry White and Taken Opportunities_**

Huh? Anyone want to tell me what that was all about? Is there something that someone wants to fill me in about? I could sense a cat fight coming really soon… Between Sheryl and Rinoa…. This could be interesting….

Ok, so let's review. I went from being in shit to being in _deeper_ shit to being in _ankle-deep_ shit (and I must add that I'll need to change my mental socks too…) to being in _knee-high_ shit (The mental pants too now…) and now, _no shit whatsoever_.  Wow! Hyne, did I ever tell you that you **_ARE _**my favorite god? No? Too bad. Well, you are.

Anyways, the scene that unfolded before my eyes was one of the most hilarious sights ever.  Well, at least to me it was.

There were two girls in front of me; one pretty… No, strike that. _Gorgeous_- especially when she's pissed-, and the other… Well, she was… Um… How do you say this gently? Um… _Nothing special_.  I expect that you know which one is which… Right? Yeah you do. You better. 

As I was saying about these two girls, they had it out for each other. 

"What are you doing here?" The red head in pumps demanded.

"Oh. No one told you? Aww. My bad. This is the breakfast meet for the drivers in the race that runs all weekend." The brown-haired fury shot back.

"Yeah. Didn't you listen to yourself? **_Dri-Ver_**! And you are neither. You're just the org… Well, screw that!" Sheryl shriek and went for a full frontal assault on Rinoa, attempting to slap her.

Rinoa foresaw the attack and dodged it easily, moving slightly to the left while she coolly taunted, "Oh yeah. Remember your ex, Mike, was it? Well, he said that… Um… I'm not sure if you'd want everyone to hear this, but, um, Oh well. I'll say it anyways. You wet the bed a couple of times and moaned out the name 'Gina' in your sleep. What is that supposed to mean? Did you accidentally fall of the swing _that_ way?" 

"You bitch. I can't believe you just said that! You stole all my boyfriends over something that happened when we were kids!" Sheryl yelled out once more but broke her heel on a crack in the pavement and fell flat on her face. "Ow… That hurt!"

"You should've given me the red marker." Rinoa said as she walked away from the fallen tower on heels.

"Argh! This isn't over! Mark my words!" Sheryl yelled after her as she got up and fled the scene.

Too bad. It was amusing while it lasted, but all great things must soon come to and end.  And an even greater one was about to begin; Rinoa was walking my way.

"Don't smile like that; your fly's open." Huh? What? How did that happen? Jeez! 

"Hey you!" I heard some deep 'Barry White-esque' voice behind me yell out as I zipped my fly.

"Yeah?" I turned around to be faced with one of the tallest guys I've ever seen in my life. I figured it'd be a good idea to try not to piss him off. 

"Your car is blocking mine; move it." Wow! I never knew that 'Barry White' can be really mean.

I turned to see his car and I must say, 'Holy Crap!' It was a 1998 Prelude with al the works, leather interior and a little hula girl on the dashboard (classic).

"Nice wheels." I said as I climbed in the car.

"Just move your car… Hmm… Not bad. I like it." He said as he observed my car from a theft's perspective. Well excuse me. Keep your paws off my steering wheel, butt out of my seat and don't scratch the paint job.  2001 Eclipse, a red dragon on a black background and a leather interior. Not your traditional car, but I've had it all my life. And the paint job _did_ cost a very pretty penny.  

"Take a good look now because it'll be too blurry to see later." I said as I put the key into the ignition and gunned the motor.  Putting it into reverse, I backed up and let 'Barry White' out and drove my car to the track.

***

Rinoa's POV 

Well, that girl will get it served to her on a silver platter one day and, who knows? That day might even be tomorrow! I'm not hinting at anything but I wouldn't be surprised if her luck runs out again. Today was nothing compared to what might happen tomorrow. A couple scratches is nothing compared to something like… Oh… I don't know… A broken nose maybe or even a leg.

Well, ok… Maybe I should quit thinking like I'm going to plot something very soon. It's just a thought that may help prove my innocence… To what, I'm not sure.

I stood at the window in my office, overlooking my 'empire' as I like to call it. The racetrack that took quite some time to build and the design was flawless… If your intention was for no one to ever be able to finish the race. The sharp turns and off-road courses were enough to crash someone's car. Whatever. If you couldn't make at least one turn, you didn't deserve to be able to be within a fifty-meter radius of a car, let alone drive it. 

Course, I could make those turns. Why I'm not racing is my father's fault. He saw fit that I was never allowed to enter a race because the old man thought that he'd lose me as well as my mother to a path of asphalt. 

Sure, my mother was good at what she did. Everyone says that she was just a horrible driver and chose the wrong path in life. She was a brilliant in the fields of medicine and probably could have developed a more efficient cure for cancer without having to lose your hair. Not only was the left side of her brain fully functional but she also had an amazing voice that would put any Grammy winner to shame… But of course, she couldn't do something she was already good at. She had to do something that would challenge her hand-foot-and-eye coordination. 

I know the story printed in the papers about her fatal crash was a lie. There was just something not right about it. I saw all the trophies that she had won and there was no way she'd lose because some driver bumped her into a wall. I know cars and they don't just blow up because it was slammed into a wall… Or at least not my mother's. 

I saw the tape of her last run ever. The problem didn't only begin at the very beginning of the race; it started at the beginning of the race, when she first gunned the engine. Steam does _not_ begin to erupt from below the hood after you push the gas pedal with the brakes on. It doesn't come from the hood; it comes from the tires.

One day, I will find out what happened to her, even if legal racing laws forbid my knowing. Why shouldn't I be allowed to know? She was, after all, my mother. I don't understand. I have made finding the truth part of my life's mission and nothing will stop me… Even if I land behind bars for it.

Suddenly, the track looks so inviting. The asphalt calls for me as much as the dirt-paths do. The track is empty and it might not be like this for quite some time now.

I quickly leave my office, only stopping for a few urgent calls. When I'm in one of my moods, 'Important' doesn't cut it. A call form a driver that wants to register late but no can do; he has to wait for next year. Some sponsor requesting that the banner be put in front of one of the sections of the bleachers and another guy called about how my father wants to see me. Good Hyne! Why now?

I take the elevator to the top floor and exit when it dings, signaling that I've arrived at my destination. Well, I don't really want to see him, but it might cost me my job… Or even worse: a lecture about my conduct.

He's pacing… That can't be a good thing.

"Take a seat, sweetie." Uh oh. He's sucking up. What does he want now?

 "I think you need one more than I do." I reply, still sitting anyways. 

He walks over to his desk ad sits imposingly on the leather chair, folding his hands.

"Rinny, I want to talk to you about your behavior today in the parking lot." Huh? He doesn't want something? Wait a minute! 'My behavior in the parking lot'? And there aren't any veins popping out of his forehead?

"Sheryl Mears, daughter of Fredrick Mears, CEO of Unimartix, has been in dire need of psychiatric help for years now and today was the day you cured her of it. You see, in psychiatric help, her psychiatrist was constantly telling her that she thought too highly of herself and that she underestimated the rest of the world. Today, a realization dawned on her that she was just like everyone else and that she was too self-absorbed for her own good." 

What is he trying to get at here? Here he is blabbering on about a girl I couldn't give a care in the world for and I want so desperately to get behind the wheel of a car and feel the power and speed coursing through that magnificent machine.

"The point that I'm trying to get across is," Wow! Can he read my thoughts cause suddenly, all his babbling about Sheryl seemed to have stopped, "Thank you for being such a realistic girl." I sat there dumbfounded, trying to figure out what just happened there. Is that all he wanted to say to me? Couldn't it have waited until supper?

"However, your late night drive on the track might prove other wise. Last night I talked to Kenny, one of the guards on duty last night at the track and he told me that you should be competing in this race. Why is that? Is there some potential that I missed in you?"

Um… YEAH!  Well, I guess I'll just have to talk to Kenny later. Whether it's bad of good will be determined later.

"I'm my mother's child; I can't get enough of the feeling I get when I'm behind the wheel. As for the potential part, I think you should be the judge. I was just about to go out for a drive before." I said calmly.

"Alright then. But if you do prove to be somewhat talented, you'll have to wait for next year." Wow! Run that by my again? If I can pull this off, he'll let me race? I wonder…

"What made you come to this decision?" I asked quite curiously.

"Now wouldn't you like to know?" He said, "Now, I think you should capitalize on this opportunity before I change my mind." 

"Alright. See you later, Dad." I said as I walked out the office and nearly ran to the elevator. I called him 'Dad' again. I think I should stop before I get used to it.

A/N: I never thought that I would see the day where I would finish this chapter. And I'm a very proud person right now because I got it finished with a bad writer's block and getting grounded. I have to say a VERY, VERY, VERY BIG thank you to Sammy-Chan who pushed me to the point where I would actually finish this chapter. I also thank her for being somewhat semi-patient with me… Wow. There sure are a lot of semi-s here. Anyways, I hoped you liked the chapter. Review because there's just no point in getting this far without writing some sort of feedback. Thanks for reading! *blows an air kiss*__


	7. Elevators, Phone Calls and Stalkers, Oh ...

A/N: Well, I found the time to update sooner than I did before and I hope y'all won't kill me for the delay. Anyways, leave a tip at the end and I'll be happy. Now, on with the story!

**_Chapter 7: Elevators, Phone Calls and Stalkers, Oh My!_**

Rinoa's POV 

Well, the go ahead was given and the hand-eye-and-foot coordination was set on 'knock his socks off' but something didn't seem right. Something was seriously wrong. Why would he oppose something for all nineteen years of my life and suddenly say, "Sure. Go for it, sweetie." It doesn't make sense.

Ok, fine. This elevator ride is driving me crazy and I'm thinking too much. But in all honesty, my gut reactions are never wrong and I can feel this feeling so deeply. Was something bad going to happen to me down there? Or was my father plotting something that I should know about? This isn't good… At all.

Jeeze! I never knew the elevator ride from my father's office to the ground was this long! How long does it take to get from the forty-second floor to the ground? And why do so many people need to get on the elevator at 12:00 PM? Oh! Right. They need to eat lunch too. Forgot about that. Wow! Who put too much perfume on? Ten bucks says it's the lady in front of me.

After what seemed an eternity in the smelliest elevator ever, the lift dinged at the ground floor and I ran across the hall past the guards who smiled at me as if I owed them a favor… Or maybe they were just happy to see me. The doors opened and the walking carpet brought me to my destination: the driver's suits.

I took the red one off the hook and got dressed. The gloves and helmet lay beside the hanger and as soon as I was finished, I picked them up and went to the next room: the garage.

I picked up the keys to the Citroën and Geoffrey, the garage guard, opened the door and gave me two thumbs up. I smiled and waved. 

The car sparked to life and ran gracefully over to the starting line. I drove up to the starting line and waited for the lights to turn green. In my mind's eye, I could see my father staring down, waiting expectantly to be blown away. Still, I must wonder about what drove him to give me a trial/audition like that. 

The light turned green and I burned rubber as I drove down the racetrack. Slowly, I worked my way up the gears and slowed down to round the corners without crashing. This was a shot I had been waiting for and practiced for my entire life- after I got my license, of course- so why was I nervous?  

It was the first and only thought I would get. I pulled all the stops and finished my race and saw the timer flash my run: 2:48.8. An all-time best, if I do say so myself. I wonder what Mr. High-Expectations would say. 

I parked the car in the garage and Geoffrey came to congratulate me.

"Congrats, kiddo. Your mother would've been proud. I don't think any of those self-absorbed drivers could be that and if they can, it was only out of pure luck." He said as he patted my back.

"Hey, thanks, Geoff. That means a lot to me, you know that?" I replied smiling. It was the first time ever that someone ever gave me a compliment like that.

"I know, and I knew it'd make you happy." He said as he let go of me. "You should go see the big guy up stairs now and see what he has to say about 2:48.8." 

I waved goodbye and went through the doors without taking off the suit. I walked across the lobby and into the elevator. A few people who were visiting the place stared at me funny but I ignored them; I was in a _very_ good mood right now.

Thank god. This time, the elevator went up without stopping. I guess people liked the stairs better. The lift dinged at the top floor and I got out, walking past dad's… Um, I really should stop calling him that. Past _Caraway's_ secretary who smiled and stared at the suit. I still didn't care.

I opened the doors to see him still staring out the window, overlooking the empty track. Glass of whisky in hand, he continued to stare as if he had seen a ghost.

"You drive… Like your mother. All seeing, all knowing and nothing can faze you. You see the track from above and know what's coming next. Perhaps you've got a gift, perhaps you just know every bend and corner from late night drives. Or maybe you've got a knack for controlling the car. Who knows."  He continued to stare out the window, occasionally taking a sip from his glass.

"Hey, I'm over here; not out the window." I said as I waved at him. Some people. Eye contact is vital for communication.

"Yeah, you are." He said as he turned to face me. "My decision about you driving professionally will be given after the race is over. I will give you my answer on Monday."

Great. Just great. Four whole days. Or more if he feels like killing me.

Selphie's POV 

Woohoo! Some show out there. Heh! It seems that fate is without a sense of irony. Right. Maybe I should stop watching The Matrix so much. But it was true. Or maybe I'm thinking of something else. 

Still, you couldn't ignore my 'partner's little 'Piss-Everyone-Off' attitude today. Maybe he should think before he speaks. That guy that looked like he was ready to flatten him and driving with a nose-cast isn't very comfortable. What happens when your nose gets itchy?

Tee hee. My phone was tickling my hip through the material as it vibrated. Okay, yeah, I do know that that doesn't sound right but bare with me here! And get those thoughts out of your heads! 

Anyways, I took the phone out of my pocket spoke into the mouthpiece, "Hello?" 

The conversation to follow was one of the weirdest ones I have ever heard in my life. I can't really say exactly what it is but let me tell you; it ranks waaaaaaayyy up there with the clown conversations. It wasn't the type that you get everyday from your mother telling you to go to the grocery store and pick up some milk of something like that. No siree bub!

I hung up the phone, got in my car, and followed after my 'partner'. Something wasn't right down in Centra and Squall needed to know.  The reason wasn't specified either. I don't even know who called me… Wait. Yes, I do know. Hee hee!

I sped up as I saw him turn into the track in hopes of not loosing him. He turned into the racetrack and all I could do was follow him. I waved my arms frantically, trying to get his attention but nothing worked. Well, I guess I could always until he got out of the car and pounce on him. In my mind, of course it sounded right.

Squall's POV 

Wow! I was still a newbie and already I had a stalker! Jeeze! The Civic SI had been following me for the past three blocks now and as I turned into the racetrack, it followed me. Are you serious? The race hasn't even begun yet and already I'm on a most wanted list. Did they even post the list of competitors yet? 'Course they did! _PUBLICITY_!

As I drove into the parking lot, I saw the driver wave at me. It only dawned on me then that this person was trying to get my attention… Urgently. I wondered what could have happened that was so horrible that my immediate attention was necessary.  My parents were still alive and well the last time I checked; I did remember to turn off all appliances in the house… Except for the stove! Oh crap! My house is probably burnt to a crisp! Where'll I live?! 

Wait a minute! I never used the stove. The only night that I spent there so far was the day I first got it and I had pizza that night. Thank Hyne. So what could this pressing matter be?

I parked the car and got out only to be tackled by a five-feet tall brunette who looked vaguely familiar… There was something about her. Maybe I could place her once she stopped moving up and down and flailing her arms like she was trying to fly.

Oh. Right. Won't stop moving… Trying to fly… It could only be one person: Selphie. Ooops. My mistake. Keep this between the both of us and everything'll be _just_ fine.

"Squall, we need to go back to the hotel immediately. No time to explain. We just have to get to the hotel within the hour!" She said as she bobbed up and down.

"Alright." Was all I managed to say and the petite girl climbed back in her car and sped off. 

I walked to my car, trying to figure out what was so important. The thoughts clouded my head and I didn't hear the yell of the gorgeous girl from before trying to get my attention.

Was there something in the water or have I suddenly become "Mr. Important" all of a sudden? First Selphie; and now Rinoa? What is up with Deling City?

A/N: So there you have it. A nice big cliffhanger. Don't y'all just love me? Anyways, leave a tip and I just might update within the next three weeks. What can I say? I have exams too! Anyway, wish me luck; thanks to all who reviewed in the last chapter (you know who you are) and WRITE A REVIEW… **_NOW_**! Love y'all!


	8. Lounges and Robberies

A/N: Woohoo! Look who wrote a chapter and not her cheat sheet?! All hail me! Anyways, please review when you're done and tell me what you think. Thanks! 

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Chapter 8: Lounges and Robberies Squall's POV 

So, I guess the demand of 'Squall's Attention' going up because I'm requested back at my hotel with the hour and Rinoa wants to talk to me. I wonder why

"I need to talk to you. It's really important." She started.

"But I need to go back to my hotel room. I have a call to take…" I replied. She looked at me with pleading eyes and I really did want to give in but I couldn't. I just couldn't because Selphie said it was really important and I somehow trust that ball of energy called Selphie. Yeah, she's just a little to hyper to keep still.

"Ok… Well, then can I talk to you later? Like sometime tonight?" She asked more pleadingly. 

"I guess. Where do you want to talk?" 

"Well, um, can you meet me at the Deling City hotel? In the lounge?"

"Um… Sure. What time?"

"9:00 sounds good."

"Alright. I'll see you then." I said and waved as I got into my car.

I sped out of the parking lot and down the streets only to see her waving at me in my rearview mirror.  What the hell is up with the water today?

The emptiness of the parking lot greeted me as I drove up to the hotel. Where about fifty cars went in the span of ten minutes, I don't know; but, as long as they weren't here, it was fine by me. On a second glance, I realized that I had over-looked Selphie's lone car in the desolate area.  

I parked the car, pulled out the steering wheel safety guard, got out, and locked it as I placed the tire clamp on. A guy can never get too protective of his car, right? 

I strolled over to the front doors of the hotel and walked past the receptionist and to the elevator. I wonder how she would have reacted if I were some sort of criminal rather than a guest at this hotel… Would she shriek like a mad woman or just go about her affairs like she did just now?

The elevator dinged upon its arrival and inside, an elderly couple stared at me intently… Had they never seen a teenage boy before? Or was it my suit? I don't know but it was kind of scary. Besides, weren't they supposed to get off the lift at the ground floor or do they enjoy going up and down the elevator shaft all day?

I push my designated floor and proceeded to look anywhere else besides the couple. Until they started to talk to me.

"Why're you here, sonny?" The old man asked me. What? Was it a crime to stay in a hotel below the age of 57?

"I'm here on a business trip." That's right. Let's play it the _vague_ way.

"Oh really? What kind of business? I'm in the entertainment business… If you know what I mean…" He said as he wagged his eyebrows at me. Ewww! Horny, old... _Man. That's the only appropriate word to describe him._

At that moment, the woman turned around and gave him _'The Look_' and slapped him across the face and as if I was too young, she said, "Not in front f the kid!" 

Eww! Dear God! Why do you insist on making me go through such torture? I hoped to god that they would not get frisky in the elevator and looked for a "Speed up" button as I replied, "I'm in the racing industry."

Yup. Like I said, the luck of a squirrel on a freeway.

"Really? Would like to race against me sometime soon?" and still, he persisted to wag his eyebrows. Really gross. Did someone fall of the fence between straight and gay and land on the wrong side? I don't know about you, but I'm still on the straight side, thank you very much.

"Um… I can't. This is my floor." And I got off… Only to be followed by the "active" couple.

"Are you sure about that? I mean; I know that I can beat your _punk ass_ anytime, any day, anywhere! I'll even race for pink slips!" Jeeze! That guy's been watching _The Fast And The Furious _way to many times. "You can even use the back seat of my car for a little _fun_ if you want too!" He called after me only to get slapped in the face once more by his wife.

"Frank! That was the place where we first-" She started to scold him only to be cut off by Selphie popping out of the hotel room and called out

"Squall! Where've you been? Your presence is demanded on the phone!" Thank you Selphie! 

"Hey, son, you do know how to get into her skirt, right? Or do you already have a relationship with someone because we can keep a secret, you know?" He said once more as he wagged his eyebrows once more with a horny smile. 

'Um... I need to take that call. I'll se you around sometime." Like** never**! Good God! All right, I've learned my lesson! Stop being a prick! 

I walked over to the bed to see that the call was on speakerphone.

"Selphie, I thought that you said in an hour." I looked at her.

"I heard wrong. It was really the half hour. Sorry."

"But it hasn't been half an hour either!"

"Cut it out, you two." I heard Billings boom over the phone only to be followed by the "Yeaaah!" from Irvine and Zell in Centra.

"Now quiet down, everyone. We have a very important situation on our hands. Over the weekend, someone has robbed an Estharian bank and the culprit has gotten away. Fortunately, they left enough clues for forensics to work with." Billings lectured.

"Ok, well, what's that got to do with us?" I asked curiously.

"Well, what it has to do with us is that the bank that they robbed was where we keep all our funds. All of them. The robbers got away with all the money and funds that were within that building." Billings continued.

"Well, doesn't insurance cover that?" Selphie asked.

"Yes, it does, if they can prove that it was no one from our company that stole the money. So far, five of our employees are amongst the suspects."

"Ok… So what does that mean?" Zell asked.

"That means that, James, is this line secure?" and some shuffling was heard and then, "That means that for the time being, Coke is currently on hold. We cannot write any more checks until the results of the robbery come in."

"Okay. At least we know where we stand." Irvine said to fill in the silence.

"So, in order to maintain a somewhat stable stance, we need you all to win at least first and second and to give us the check so that we will not be bought out. If Coke is bought out, your racing contracts are terminated and you would have to race for whoever buys us out and not be paid for the next three years. Those are the terms of the buy-out policy amongst major corporations that no one ever knows about. We are asking you to give us the checks in an act of desperation. Of course, we will pay you all back with interest."

Once again, the line was silent. I still seem to have the luck of a squirrel on a freeway. I was so excited about my first multi-million dollar signing and this was how it was turning up. Just great. This can't be happening to me. I mean, for a brief moment in time, I had a sense of where I was going in life and all of a sudden, it had to leave. Maybe I should look for that number for a truck driving school. It wouldn't hurt to have a backup plan.

Selphie sat across me, not even moving. That was a rare thing because ever since I had met her, she didn't stop moving… Until now. She just sat there, staring blankly out the window behind me, trying to process the impact of the information that was just given to us. It was a hefty sum to process and no one knew how to respond to what to was just asked of us and I know that from experience.

Down in Centra, nothing could be heard. The only sounds came from Billings who nervously shuffled his papers and made piles of papers to keep himself occupied as he nervously waited for our answers.

It would seem that one by one, our answers made their way out of our throats and heard. 

"Sure."

"Okay." 

"Alright"

And the only one left was myself. I was still confused. I didn't know what to say because this decision was probably one of the hardest ones to make. Okay, so maybe I'm being a little selfish here but I think that it can go unsaid that I was some kind of a moron.

"Fine." 

I think I need to go get drunk. _Now_.

A/N: Hey! How was that? I mean… I didn't switch the POVs at all and it still turned out to be a healthy sized chapter. And I want to say thank you to all the encouraging reviewers that reviewed (great show of intelligence there, Ekika. Real smart!). They made me want to actually write this chapter. Thank you! Anyways, do the Good Samaritan thing and review please?


	9. Dinner, A Girl and Unwanted Memroies

A/N: Well, it's official, I'm not dead yet. I haven't updated in quite the longest time and for that, I apologize. I also realize that this isn't one of those short ones that I have written before this. And, well. I sound really snotty right now. So, to that I say, "Jeronimo!!!!" Ahem. Right. Now, I say, "Let's see you get mooned by the Archbishop of Canterbury!" And on with the story!

Rinoa's POV

I entered the lounge, looking to see if Squall was there yet. Sure, I did say nine and the current time is seven… But I guess I'm just ahead of myself a bit… Or not. 

The cigarette smoke clouded the air above and the people chatted away happily as they chatted away, talking about whatever it is that makes people happy. Everyone was either talking or listening to the person beside or across them. All except for one person, alone in his booth, drinking shot after shot of tequila. 

I walked over casually to a certain brown haired driver that I wasn't supposed to meet for another two hours. He looked like he was down in the dumps, thinking about whatever it was that made his day more complicated… Okay, well, I didn't know this for sure but I was right because he looked up at me with a glazed contemplative look in his eyes. 

"Is this seat taken?" I asked, sounding clichéd, pointing at the opposite side of the booth. 

He shook his head and went back to his shots. Fine, I've broken ice before. Damn straight I have. I even _fell_ through it too!

"I know I'm not supposed to be here for another two hours but I wanted to eat supper." I started off.

"By all means, it's not a crime to eat supper in front of me." He said as he downed yet another shot. There was only enough for one more shot in the bottle. I had to wonder just exactly how long he had been here because I was not going to eat if someone was going to hurl all over my food.

"Well, um, you wanna just stop drinking for a moment? Please?" I asked politely, eyeing the bottle uneasily. Hey, it's not my fault that I don't like vomit in my food. I don't know about you but my food does not need a hint of _je ne sais quoi._

"If it bugs you." He said in a manner that was uncalled for.

"Yes it does." I replied, "I need you to have a clear mind when you answer me though." 

"Well, I'm not seeing double yet so my mind's clear enough." And he wasn't slurring his words so he mustn't have drunk so much yet.  That was a good thing.

"Good. Um… I don't know how to bring up the subject and I'm not even sure you want to talk about it…" I began to square dance around the topic. Earlier today, it seemed like such an important thing to tell him… But now, I was getting second thoughts about it.

"Talk about what?" He asked somewhat annoyed. I guess I just have to go about it brashly. He took the empty shot glass and filled it: Just in case, I suppose.

"Well, really, there are two things I wanted to talk to you about." I started; suddenly, my courage just evaporated. I couldn't say another word… until he poked and prodded about it.

'Stop stalling and get out with it." He said. His eyes weren't really calm and I could tell that they were trying to withhold a secret from me: That he was about to reach out across the table and strangle it out of me, if needed be. It wasn't much of a secret… I got that look every time I tried to bring up an important issue with my father.

"Very well. The first is that," I started, but a thought interrupted my train. An amused smile played at my lips and I saw a way I could torture this poor and already unfortunate soul before me, "Actually, I can't tell you that. That would be showing favoritism amongst the organizers… Too bad!"

"What? That's not fair! If you can't tell me, you shouldn't bring it up!" He cried in a sudden outburst, disturbing the harpist and all eyes were focused on us. 

I turned to face everyone and gave them a slightly embarrassed wave and a weak smile. Of course, they stared for a moment and then turned back to whatever it was that they had been doing, be it chatting or eating or laughing or being obnoxious or trying to pick someone up at the bar or… You know what? I really couldn't care less about what they were doing.

"So what? Who said I wasn't allowed to have some fun? Besides, didn't you notice? I'm a woman. I'm meant to do these things. It's in my nature." I looked at him smuggingly. 

"Whatever. So what's the other "Important matter" you wanted to talk to me about?" He asked, getting over the loss of the first by simply acting as if it didn't exist. 

I sighed. It wasn't something pleasant. Fact is, it was_ far from _pleasant_. It was something that past loves might tell you about. Something that only an ex would know: The feeling of a bad break up. To bring it up is like stabbing the knife right back into someone's heart._

"I know about your past relationship with Sheryl." I hung my head, the smugness drained from me. I had to tell him... didn't I? Honest to God, I was really sure about that... until now. When the words actually came out of my mouth, suddenly, it seemed as though it would've been better had I not said anything.

_Squall's POV_

Well _that_ stung like a bitch. I failed to see how it was important.... How it was remotely relevant... Why she had to say that... 

The words stung in my mind, over and over, jabbing at my defenseless soul. Sure, I didn't _love_ Sheryl to the point of utter pain when we split and decided it was better if we had never laid eyes on each other again.

I played around with the full shot glass, nearly spilling it a couple times. The tequila might be able to soothe the pain in my wounds and perhaps maybe even numb it so that I couldn't feel it until morning. Taking a chance, I let the liquor sting my throat as it slid down, making my pain recede for a brief moment. 

I looked up at her and thought about that morning, how she and Sheryl fought. I think I may have forgotten to mention it then, but hey, the cat's outta the bag now, might as well confess.

_*Flashback*_

_It was four years ago, when I was sixteen, innocent and still exploring the simplicity of being a teenager. I had a fling. I wasn't the only one in the history of man to have a fling. We had gone to school together, Balamb High School, and were in the same history class. Big deal._

_One day, one of my friends and I crashed this party that was supposed to be the "Party Of The Century". Sure, I thought, there've been so many parties in this century; how was this one going to be **the one**?_

_Nevertheless, we went anyways, met up with a few people that I knew... the sports athletes were there, as were the 'Pretty and Rich' and the 'Above Average Simpletons'. Where did I fall? Who cares? It's beside the point. After an hour of walking around, I ran into Stacey What's-Her-Name and she introduced me to Sheryl. She was okay looking then, and wasn't as snobby as she is today. _

_We danced once before I stepped on her toes a couple of times. Calling it quits, we went out on the balcony to stare talk and cool down... It was a house party and it was deadly in there... Too hot._

_We talked for quite some time, getting to know each other and I asked her out. Needless to say, she accepted. That's how we became an item in the first place._

_We went out on a date and decided to go out again next week._

_I now admit that that was a mistake because by the end of the month, she'd already jumped into my pants... Literally. We did the "Full Monty" and come the next morning, she had left... With my clothes. Well, being sixteen, I didn't go home; I told my parents that I was spending the night at a friend's house while we spent the night in the car. _

_Great. She had taken everything that was bigger than her fist with her and left me my keys at least. Well, it could've been worse... And well, the worst was yet to come._

_My parents like to walk a lot. So, naturally, the front door had to me at least half a kilometer away from the door. They went for the full one thousand meters. There was no shrubbery, therefore making my run for the door so much harder. _

_What had I done to her? Then it struck me: Nothing. This was 'Crazy' Sheryl Mears. Of, I had ignored that until now. Great. So, here I was, in my car, driving home, in the nude, while people stared at me funny through my windows. I only had a Learner's permit at the time and I ran into a cop. Thankfully, he didn't pull me over, or worse, get me out of the car._

_When I got home, I saw my parents' car parked in the driveway. The neighbors were home and most were nosy people. The only one who didn't give a crap was the blind man three houses down on the opposite side. And, everyone was outside, working on the lawn... As were my parents._

_"Hey, you're... Why aren't you wearing anything?" my mother asking me as she strode over to the car. I was caught and there was nothing that I could do about it._

_"It's a long story." I said simply, not wanting to answer questions. "Can I just walk into the house behind you?"_

_"No. You refuse to tell me why my son is currently in his birthday suit. Last time I saw you naked, I was giving you a bath and you were playing with the rubber ducky and your hair was spiked up because of the shampoo and bubbles in your eyes and-" She started but I cut her off._

_"Mom! You're embarrassing me. Now, will you get your dear ol' son to the door without ripping his pride away?" I asked impatiently._

_Maybe that wasn't the way you spoke to your mother, but what're you to do when she goes on about giving you a bath at eighteen months old? Well, needless to say, she walked away and told my father. Any normal father would get quite pissed off is his son showed up at home the next day in his birthday suit... But mine was thrilled. He started laughing so hard and went inside to get something. Next thing I knew, he strolled over leisurely, hands behind his back._

_"Hi son. How was you're night at Steve's?" He asked, ignoring my current 'Adam-In-The-Garden' state. _

_"Great. Until he dared me to go home naked and kept y clothes to make sure I wouldn't slip them on in the car." I lied._

_"Oh really. Well, that's great." He said airily... Before he took his hands out from behind his back and blinded me with the flash... From the picture he'd just taken. He laughed as he ran off to put the camera away from anywhere I might think of to keep his precious picture safe. When he exited once more, he went to join my mother to take care of the flowerbeds under the windows._

_Great. I had both of my parents working against me. there was no way I'd make it to the door with all my pride intact. Damn Sheryl._

_Hesitantly, I opened the door and poked my head outside to check up on who was watching. My neighbor to my left looked up to greet me... Until he saw my current state. He shook his head and called his wife over and pretty soon, the eyes of everyone on the block were watching me. That was the second worse day of my life._

_I closed the driver's side and crawled over to the passenger's side, opened the door and bolted for it. _

_The neighbors all watched me as I ran, my pride and joy exposed for everyone to see. The kids stopped playing and looked at me funny while their mothers tried to cover their children's eyes. The fathers cheered me on as their wives slapped them over the head, causing them to change their tunes and scold me for not having the decency to cover myself up with at least a newspaper._

_I stopped, turned to them all and shouted, "I would if my girlfriend hadn't taken anything that was bigger than her first out of my car!" and continued to pursue the remaining ten feet to the front door._

_It wasn't a smart move because my parents heard me. They looked up, both shocked, but for different reasons. My mother was shocked to hear that her son had slept with a girl before wedlock. My father, however, was shocked that he had won the bet. "Pay up, Luce." he'd said with a certain smugness. Then it dawned on him: He'd never given me The Talk. _

_I slammed the door behind me and ran straight to my room, past four maids who blushed upon seeing me. I slammed the door behind me and shoved on a pair of boxers. Downstairs, I heard my parents storm up to my room. My father pounded on the door, demanding that I open it as soon as I had a pair of boxers on. My mother was yelling at me through the door, but I didn't listen to her. _

_I threw on a pair of khaki shorts and a Guns 'n Roses tee shirt. I opened the door, only to be pushed down on the bed by my father and mother started with her tirade of how she was disappointed in me for "Seeing so reckless" and asked if I'd used a condom. _

_My father, however, wasn't so disappointed in me and banished my mother from the room as he went on the 'The Talk', thanked me making him win the bet and then asked if Sheryl was 'Any good'. Disgusted, I threw him out before I shut the door and walked straight over to the phone._

_I called Sheryl and asked what the hell her clothes snatching was all about. Her response:_

_"Remember in third grade when we had that assembly in front of the whole school and we were to award the awards? Remember how you pulled down my skirt and underwear? For all to see? Well, consider it a 'thank you' because I made it into the yearbook this year as 'So-Long-Skirt-'n-Panties' Sheryl."_

_I hadn't thought of that in a long time... A week after I had done it... It was probably the worst thing that I had done... What had she done to make me do that in the first place? She accused me of cheating on the vocabulary test... Put glue on my seat... Spilled apple juice on the crotch of my pants... pushed me into a fifth grade girl's chest... And I had mortified her once... and that was when it stopped. She left me alone... Until now._

_"Well, I'll come by to pick up my clothes and that's the last time we'll ever lay eyes on each other again. Got it? I don't want to ever see you again." _

_And that was that... _

_Until this morning. She accused me of following her to Deling and purposely trying to see her. She said that her father owned the hotel. A lie. The hotel belonged to Caraway. Caraway had only one daughter. And then she claimed that I wanted her back. Never. I didn't want her. I had found someone else, I'd told her. She suddenly turned sickeningly sweet and said I was bluffing. I gave her the same smile and told her that I wasn't... And that was when Rinoa saw us._

*_End Flashback*_

I looked at the girl who sat across me, her head hung and her hair blocking her face from view. 

"How'd you know?" I asked her, a little scared myself.

"My friend used to go there, Stacey Price."

And it clicked. Stacey What's-Her-Name... Stacey Price. 

"Alright. Is that it?" I asked her... the tequila starting to take effect.

"Yes. And I will not have the whore's leftovers. Stay away from me." and she left.

A/N: Oi vey! Anyways, this chapter was longer, so cut me some slack and I will try to post the next sooner. Piece of advice: The extra encouragement lies in the blueish-purpleish box down there that says 'Submit review'. Trust me on that. Feedback is a good thing. Love it, hate it, I'd take it all! See you in the next chapter… if you can coax it out of me!


	10. Advils and Hangovers

Chapter 10

_Squall's POV_

Well, that stung like a bitch. Why would it matter? Why _should it matter? My mind kept trying to come up with a plausible answer to it all but nothing seemed to fit... other than how much she hates Sheryl. But how was I supposed to know this way back when? I mean, it's not the past that makes us who we are, it's the choices we make...Right?_

I trudged over to the elevator and continued to try to think up the reasons why; I think the little line she said before she left sobered me up a little and I was able to walk in a straight line. I just don't get it. All girls should live by at least one rule... And as soon as I find out what rule that is, I'll tell you.

In the elevator, the old man and his wife were there once more. I tried to ignore them as they tried to talk to me.

"Is it girl problems, son?" The old man asked.

"Or is it problems with your hoo-hoo?" The old lady asked.

"God! Just leave me alone! I'm aloud to take the time to think about issues, right?" I yelled. I will run them over one day, put the rest of the world out of it's misery. People that old ought to be forbidden to utter a word about the problems they had as kids. The elevator dinged and I got off anyways, my floor or not. I wasn't going to be stuck there with old and horny.

I had gotten off at the second floor while people got on. As they rose upwards, I pushed the up button and a lift dinged shortly afterwards. I got into the empty cubicle and stood in silence, still thinking about what Rinoa had said.

I got off at my floor and went into the room only to find Selphie there, sitting on her bed, watching some sitcom or another. 

At the sound of the door opening, she turned to look at me, then at the clock, then me again and went back and forth for quite some time until I finally asked, "What?"

"Your date over so early? It's only a quarter to eight!" She looked stumped.

"Yeah. I don't want to talk about it. The time trials are tomorrow. I need my sleep. "I said as I walked over to get my pyjamas and hopped into the shower. The water felt refreshing and I had a better hold on the thoughts that ran through my head. I still don't get it; why would she say something like that? What had i done? High school was a lifetime away!

I got out after brushing my teeth and this time, my shirtless-ness didn't shock Selphie. She looked over at me one last time before turning off the TV and the lights.

Tucked into the covers of the bed, and not quite asleep yet, she called over to me, "Squall?"

"Yeah?" I answered.

"Are you asleep yet?" 

"No."

"Ok. Could you tell me what she had to say to you or is that off limits too?"

"No. That was off limits too. Go to sleep Selphie."

"Ok."

"..."

"Squall?"

"What now?"

"Have you ever wondered what our purpose in life is?"

"Why are you asking m this?"

"Well, it's just that it's been on my mind for quite some time now and it's bugging me. I need a second opinion other than to make the most of it and to learn from our mistakes. It's not profound enough to be the actual meaning of life."

"Does it have to be profound, Confucius?"

"Yes because if it isn't then it's not the true purpose of life."

"Well, then, try thinking along the lines of being the best you can be without forgetting to be modest; not to let others bring you down; and to remember that you are the most important person."

"Hm..That just might work."

"Good. Now go to sleep."

"Ok."

"..."

"I like apples. Do you like apples? Apples are good."

"Selphie, what are you talking about?"

"I can't sleep, Squall. Sing me a song."

  
"What? No! Never! I **_DON'T _**sing."

"Aww... But then I won't sleep..."

"Argh! Fine! If it'll shut you up... " I never thought that I would ever sing for anyone but she's just getting on my nerves so much that I needed to find a way to shut her up... so I obliged, "Twinkle, twinkle little star. How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high. Like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle little star. How I wonder what you are. There. Happy? Good. Go to sleep!"

"..."

Finally. Peace and quiet. That's some good stuff.

***

"Squall! Wake up! We're gunna be late!" A high-pitched girly voice screeched into my ear. At the word 'late' I shot out of bed and into the bathroom. Without looking at the clock. Without seeing that the time was five thirty. In the morning. 

"Selphie! What time's it?" I groaned. I had a massive headache from the tequila taking its toll.

"Ten thirty!" She lied.

"Holy Shit!" I yelled, hopping into the cold water that ran in the shower. I repeated the cuss once more, only to hear laughter in the other room. My head was not helping either.

"Selphie! What's so funny?" I yelled at her.

"You are!" She squealed at me.

That was when I poked my head out the curtain and looked around for my watch. My eyes rested on the object on the counter and, sure enough, I saw the smaller hand rest on the five and the larger hand rest on the six. Great. I had fallen for it _again_. 

"Argh! You need to stop doing that!" yelled through the wall.

Outside the bathroom, I could hear the T.V on, broadcasting the news for its millions of watchers. There was no reply, but that suited me just fine. I began to think about last night's events and why it had ended so badly.

I listed them out in my head as the water gradually got warmer. The first being that I got totally hammered and now had a hangover for the time trials. The second was that I found a really great girl and she wants nothing to do with me. The third being the possibility of my house burning due to a ... Wait. I never turned on the stove. Ah. Much better.

I finished my hygiene routine and searched for an Asprin but found none.

"Selphie," I called, "Would you happen to have an Asprin?" I didn't really like to ask her for stuff but desperate times called for desperate measures.

I heard her laugh and reply, "Yeah, I do. You're luck that I tend to get severe headaches under stress... But don't they take drug tests?"

Was she stupid or something? Why would they take a drug test? It's not like steroids help you drive faster... Or did she mean for traces of pot or crack? Maybe I'm stupid. I've been to a million other competitions before... I should know the procedures.

"Yeah, they do... But it's an Asprin. Gimme a break!" I yelled back.

"Would like a broken arm or a broken leg?" She answered laughing.

"Just gimme an Asprin." I growled as I strode into the room.

"Spoil sport." She said as she handed me two Advils and a glass of water.

I stared at the glass. "Where'd you get the water?"

"I opened a bottle from the mini-bar." 

"Oh. Ok." I drank the water and downed the Advils.

***

A half hour later, I stepped out on the pavement before the immense white building. The building towered over us as we emerged from the car.  There wasn't much to say about the building but it had a corporate look about it. It may have been the _Caraway Corp. sign that loomed above us._

We walked through the glass doors and were instantly greeted by a sign that said "Drivers" and an arrow below indicating the left that sat on a golden tripod. Now _that_ was a stupid move.

We human beings (yes, drivers are human beings a well) tend to value our privacy. However, with that sign, there is no privacy. It was a free sign to the media about our whereabouts so that they could swamps us in the camera lights and a million questions fired per second. Perhaps they had their reasons for placing it there. But I don't see the reason why they couldn't set up an information desk in the front.

Anyways, I say we return to the topic at hand.

So, when we turned to our left, there was another set of glass doors. Note to self: NO roaming around butt-naked in only a towel; big, white ass on the covers of newspapers is BAD. Second thought: get big, white ass copyrighted.

Beyond the glass doors was what looked like a registration table. Behind the table sat a very cheery lady with red hair and dull, hazel eyes. Her teeth were another story. They were so white and straight that they looked liked they were ripped out of a Colgate add.

"Hi, my name is Squall Leonheart and this is Selphie Tilmitt. We're competing in this race. We're from the-" I said but was cut off abruptly. 

"The Coke Company. I know. Sign where the X's are. Room 43; third door to your right." she said while shoving a clipboard into both our hands. Suddenly, she didn't look so cheery.

I looked down at the sheets on the board and estimated about ten pages with about three X's on each. I'm sure that by the time I'm finished, the only thing I'll be able to say is "Squall Leonheart".

In about a half hour later, I was finished. As it turned out, there was somewhere between fifty to sixty X's. I got up and gave Mary Damper-Bottoms the clipboard back and she gave me a laminated pass and said, "Good luck, sunshine." and blinded me with her Colgate teeth. I wasn't too sure about that whole 'sunshine' ordeal and I was very sure that I didn't want to know about it either.

I said nothing as I walked past her and went to find the room. She was wrong. I was seven to my right. I got in to find Selphie already there.

"How're you feeling?" She asked.

"Fine." I replied.

"You do know what fine stands for, right?" 

"What?"

"**F**reaked-out, **I**nsane, **Neurotic and **E**motional."**

"The hell did you come up with that?"

"The Italian Job was on the Movie network last night.

"Oh."

To some extent, she was right. I was freaked-out. I want to see Rinoa again but I'm freaked out about the outcome. I am insane. There is no way that I can drive if those two Advil's don't hold up. I'm not too sure what 'neurotic' meant but I'm sure that I was to some extent. But hell, don't call me a girl, but I am emotional. Driving was the last thing I ever talked about with my brother.

A/N: So, with the chapter out of my way, I'd like to say that no, I have not died... yet. I'd also like to say sorry for taking my sweet-ass time but I can guarantee that I already began to write the next chapter, but knowing me and my lazy writer's habits, that won't come out before my birthday... Or at least that's what I got my money on. (Note: my birthday's the 15th of November) Anyways, those of you that read, I thank you for actually having some remote interest in this story and please review. The last time I got the urge to write was because I got a very encouraging review... Not to say that the others aren't. 

Oh! And if anyone knows of any mistakes I make every here and there, please tell me. And do tell if this is a complete work of shit.

Thanks!


	11. Explanations, Memories And The Start Of ...

Author's Notes: Yo ho! Welcome to the eleventh part of my ever so slowly growing story. To exit the chapter, I strongly encourage you to leave me a review. And I am terribly sorry for the delay but with Christmas come exams. And since you are probably familiar with the dilemmas of projects, tests and papers, please don't exercise your anger on a simple student such as myself. Note that I said simple and not innocent.

Enjoy!

Chapter 11: Explanations, Memories And The Start Of A Promising Weekend

Rinoa's POV 

Call me what you will but it won't mean anything if you don't know the story behind it all. Fact is there are only three people who truly know of what happened to me all those years ago.

As a child, my mother died in an accident. I was depressed. I felt that I had lost my one source of happiness and comfort. 

My father tried to make it better by buying me ponies and dolls and what would've made me happier **before** she died. But it never worked. I wouldn't touch my dinner; I'd locked myself in my room and cry myself to sleep instead. Yeah. I was only five. I wasn't allowed to see how it happen then and it made my grief ten times larger. Ten times that would consume whole.

One day, my dad forced me out of my room and said that we would spend bonding time together. I started by crying. He was suggesting that we do something _without_ my mom and it was to take place _outside_ of my base of refuge.

When I had cried so much that my throat was sore and I hadn't any more tears to cry, he strapped me into the car and drove us downtown to catch a matinee of Alice In Wonderland. The play was really well done but it didn't feel right without mommy there to whisper faults and humorous comments in my ear. Dad just sat there, staring at the set, probably waiting for it to be over with.

After the play, we went to McDonald's for lunch. Ronald McDonald tried to hug me but I screamed in stead. Dad had to apologize to the guy inside by saying that I had a great fear of clowns. 

We had to find a seat that was as far away from Ronald as possible- yes, I am on a first name basis with him now. We sat beside the window closets to the door. It would take more than a clown to scare me off from my favorite restaurant. I was five remember?

He sat me down as he went to order our food. He was expecting that I'd eat. Eat, I did. When he returned with the food, two weeks of not eating anything soon caught up with me. The chicken nuggets were open prey and I had to eat.

Within three seconds, they were gone and I'm willing to bet my life that my dad noticed. I'm also very sure that he was inwardly scolding himself for not trying McD's earlier. I could tell by the constipated look on his face.

After lunch, we went to the local theme park and it cheered me up a lot. However much fun the merry-go-round was, deep down in the pit of my stomach, something didn't feel right without my mom. A tiny voice in my head told me that my mother was never coming back. Another told me to eat; it would make me feel better.

We left the park before suppertime and dad bought me an ice cream. It was wonderful, so chocolaty and cold. It was to be my downfall. 

Day after day after day after day all I would eat was McDonald's and ice cream. I didn't go outside to play; I stayed inside with my dolls. One by one, I drove my friends away. I was inflating to the size of a blimp and it was more than their naïve little minds could handle. By my eighth birthday, I was alone.

One dad, my dad told me that we were going to move to Esthar. He was transferred there and he thought that it would me some good to get a change of scenery. We were to move to a nice little cheery neighborhood, right across the Leonheart's.

I remember the first time that I ever met them. I remember everything, right down to the very last strand of hair.

It was a beautiful summer's day in July. The sun was beating down on the town and almost everyone was in their pool, lounging around, drinking drinks from coconut cups with little umbrellas to stop the sun from evaporating the liquid. Or at least that's how I pictured them.

My father and I spent the day unpacking the boxes that littered the house. The cardboard cubes were stacked one on top of the other, hiding the empty alls. I was ten years old and I didn't know why, of all places, we had to move to the desert. 

We were unpacking the kitchen apparel when the doorbell rang. My father left to answer the door but neither of us were dressed in anything that would make a good first impression.

Dad wore his Guns 'n Roses tee shirt with "Here today, Gone to Hell tomorrow. GNFR" (Guns 'n Fucking Roses) with cut-off jean shorts. As for myself, my hair was tied in a ponytail, a vain effort to keep my hair out of my face. I wore a tee shirt that proclaimed that "Shit happens; what can you do about it?" and shorts. We were two peas in a profane pod.

When my dad answered the door, I saw a poster family: a mother, a father, and two boys. All were nicely dressed. They unleashed ethereal white smiles upon my father without warning.

I stood behind my father, looking at them curiously when Mrs. Loire spoke up.

"Hi. My name is Raine and this is my husband Laguna. These are our two sons, Squall and Jordan. We live right across the street and we'd like to sat 'Welcome to the neighborhood.'" She smiled again.

I saw my father smile out of the corner of my eye. Then he stuttered.

"Well, uh… That's very kind of you. Um… my name's James Caraway- I don't usually stutter this much… you just caught me off guard- and this is my daughter Rinoa."

On cue, his hand reached behind him, latched on to my arm and wrenched me out to face the poster.

The moment I came into view, I saw the two boy's smiles falter. They were two normal boys with both parents and still had their best friends.  I understood that I didn't look like anything that would grace their vision everyday.

Nobody noticed the expressions on the boys' faces, as they were all preoccupied with talking to each other. What they spoke of continues to baffle me because it what parents spoke of amongst themselves. 

I didn't show it but deep down inside, it stung. It hurt. It was pain beyond belief. I felt unloved. I felt alone. I felt uncared for. It was rejection at its unkind hour.

Sure, my father loved me at the time but it wasn't the same. I wanted to be accepted by people my age but at the mere sight of me, people's eyes shifted, smiles faltered and they tried to look away. Occasionally, some yelled mean things at me like, "Cut down on the cream puffs!" or whispered things like "Look out for the blob!" These people cost me years of psychiatric help. By the age of fifteen, I had seen more psychiatrists than the amount of CD's I owned (FYI: I had an entire room dedicated to my collection).

But that day marked me. I never forgot it. It foreshadowed what was to come at school. It left me no hope. I knew it. I was 5'0" and 300 pounds.

After a year of torment at school, I had decided that I ought to try shedding a few pounds. I wrote myself a schedule: a morning jog before school and one after, twenty push-ups, sit-ups, side-bends, curls and relaxation.

The first day I decided to cut the jogging as to save the neighbors from the sight of jiggling fat. I also decided that twenty was too much, so I cut it to ten.

After three days, I concluded that I simply didn't have the time for it. So, for another year, I endured the torment. By next summer, Caraway was transferred back to Deling, so I left Esthar with unpleasant memories with no one to say goodbye to who'd actually give a shit about me.

In Deling, I signed up for an aerobics class, got a personal trainer and a treadmill. My father and I said goodbye to all the fatty-foods and the results slowly began to show.

At first, dear ol' dad was glad. After the first twenty pounds, he ceased to care. The more weight I lost, the less he cared. He did try to salvage our relationship but it didn't work His work had swamped him and I was only second on his list of priorities. As an attempt, he gave me a job at the company saying that we'd see more of each other that way. He gave me a job as his personal assistant. More like personal slave. As time passed on, the more I became irritated at the mere sight of him.

With the job came Squall. I never admitted to anyone about the crush I had on him… Mainly because there was no one to tell. A few days ago, those feelings that I thought were long gone resurfaced and my attempt to them away was to push _him_ away. 

But it's not working. He's always on my mind. Even now as I get ready to go supervise the time trials. I picked out a black skirt and a light blue tee shirt. I know that it will attract attention but that is not my main concern.

My heels clicked the wooden stairs of the staircase, announcing that I was coming down. I saw Caraway still down stairs, reading his paper, sipping coffee. His eyebrows were furrowed, an indication of anger, disgust, thought and/or displeasure.

"I received a very interesting call this morning." He said, never once taking his eyes off the paper in front of him.

"Yeah? What was it about? Or am I not allowed to know?" I asked bitterly. Inside, I knew it was probably about me. 

"Actually, it does concern you. It's about your little dinner with a certain driver competing in my race. You know how bad that can look, right?" He had finally folded his paper and looked me in the eye. His eyes were full of self-concern. Great.

"Yeah. I do. I was catching up with an 'old friend'." I said, air quotes and all.

"Really?" He asked, skeptical to believe me when it came to such a lousy defense.

"Yeah. His name is Squall Leonheart. You remember the Leonhearts from Esthar, right?" I asked, jogging his memory.

"Wait. That was sometime ago. When you were still fun and didn't hate my very existence." He said, reminiscing of the times where I actually called him 'Dad' on a regular basis.

"Yeah. Right. Whatever you'd like to think." 

"So, what was it that you were doing there? My contact said that you had left a very drunk driver on a very harsh note."

"What's that supposed to mean? You gonna drug test him for Advil?" I was pushing his buttons, trying to steer away from the topic of last night, "Don't you think that that's just a tad bit… Oooh… What's that word I'm looking for? …  Oh yeah! Redundant."

"Oh come now. It's not that redundant. And besides, no, that wasn't my intension. My intension is to find out what you were thinking by going out to dinner with him in the first place."

"That, my dear father, is none of your business." I said bitterly, the cold in my voice icy enough to penetrate those muscles of his and shatter his bones.

"Fine. I'll drop it." He said, and then added rather hastily, "For now. Mark my words. I will find out."

"Yeah, yeah. Come on. We're gonna be late for _your_ race."

***

The drive to our corporal edifice wasn't very exciting. We bickered here and there but that was it. The silence ate away at us, but not enough to make us speak to each other. 

When we got there, Jerry, our valet, parked the car and we went to the company box that gave us a hawk's eye-view of our muddy and gravel kingdom. The crowds were close to full but you could still see the people walk up and down the aisles finding seats and kicking out those who were in the wrong ones. 

"Ah. Glad to see that our organizers finally made it." An obnoxious voice came from behind us as we took our respective seats at opposite ends of the room. I would know exactly to whom that voice would belong to if I were half dead, bleeding in a ditch. Gregory Summerville: the company ass and full-time flirt. 

"And to what do we owe the 'pleasure' of your presence, Mr. Summerville?" I asked, not bothering to turn my head.

"The pleasure came from you gracing us with your entity, Ms. Heartilly." He attempted to charm me as he took the seat next to me.

"You do know that Ms. Trepe will kick you out of her seat as soon as she arrives." I stated. As if on cue, a certain Quistis Trepe strolled though the door, her clicking high-heels announcing her presence. "And that, my friend, would be Ms. Trepe."

"My friend? Wow! I graduated from spineless ninny without even knowing it!" He exclaimed. Just then, two long fingers with French manicured fingernails clamped themselves around Summerville's ear and yanked him out of the seat.

"Ow! Jesus, Mary and Joseph! You couldn't just tell me to get out of your seat?!" He yelled at her.

"No. I already warned you that I would do that Last week when supervising the construction of the track." She said as she gracefully sat down.

"Oh, right." He said, rubbing the sore lobe.

Maybe I've never noticed it before but his hair was brown and his eyes the same color. His nose was long and sharp: a human swordfish. He wasn't the hottest person I'd ever laid eyes on but he had charm. Now, if only he wasn't such an ass.

"So. What are we to discuss today as we await the beginning of this magnificent race?" Quistis asked lazily.

"I dunno… Summerville's latest adventure in the sack with the receptionist?" Jack Davenport suggested. He was our office clown, ready to insult on behalf of the entertainment of the company.

To Jack's immense pleasure, the box roared with laughter as Summerville just stood there, mock laughing and yelling for everyone to shut up. Jack's highlights are getting on Greg's nerves. It's funny.

Shirley, my father's new assistant, was the first to recover and pointed out the window as she yelled for us, "It's about to start!"

**_Author's Note:_** Well, then, I was right. Pay up. Oh, right. We never made and official bet on that. Right.  Anyways, kindly direct your attention to that lovely little box in the bottom left-hand corner and click. I'm sure you'll notice a window that pops up with a box that gives you the space to write me a review. Please give me feedback. And feel free to tell me if I'm massacring the already hopeless story. 

And, I think I will try something I've never tried before: replying to my reviews… As minimal as they are…

**Karla3**: Thanks for the encouragement. I really need because every time I end a chapter, I put myself into a hole and am trying to find a plausible way to get out of it. As for the realism… I don't know how realistic that was… but… Um… Tells moi what you think.

**Seifer's Incarnate: **Yeah, I am alive and still kicking although not quite sure if it's a miracle. I wouldn't go that far… *new tangent* I'm glad to see that someone loves the Italian Job as much as I do.

**darkcloud:** Thankies for the motivation and I am trying but it's just not simple balancing time… As much as I waste it, it's not easy. I will try to 'mush' onto the next chappie… It's partially written… 

**huh:** You wanna know the first thing that I said after I read your review? "Huh…" Yeah. I'm just as clueless as you are. Hee. I'm still trying to improve it… maybe what was missing was actual plot development…

**Sabam:** Tee hee… I believe that there is prolly no point in replying but… um… *nods her head in a "sad but true" way* you are forgiven for forgetting to review.  And um… How many times do I have to tell you not to stress? At least once more. Thought so. *Loves Pirates of the Caribbean* and um… I have an insane thought to tell you! Go MSN now!

**Kool Kaizer: **Right. I been meaning to check your story out… Just slipped my mind too many times. Um… Thankies for the b-day salute and, um, dude, get some sleep. I shall go check out your story… *counts down*… NOW!!


	12. BangerMan, Driver And The GetGo!

**A/N:** So, I'm not being an ungrateful wretch this time... Maybe next time... Unless I don't update as soon as I anticipate... Meh... Whatever. I'd originally written this chapter way back when I first started the story but it didn't fit in. When I say written, I mean by hand... in the middle of the night because it needed to be on paper before I forgot and before I was capable of getting sleep... I feel cheesy giving an entire background story... On with the chapter! 

**_Banger-Man, Driver And The Get-Go!_**

_"Hey Jordan, d'you think I could, you know... make it as a... you know..." A twelve year-old boy asked his bother excitedly. He bounced up and down as he waited for an answer. He hadn't been that giddy since last Christmas morning._

_"As a porn star? Never. You're too scrawny and you don't exactly have a-" The sixteen year-old boy answered mockingly to his younger brother. How many times that he had asked him that same old question, he didn't' know: he had stopped counting at nine times. To date, he'd already interpreted the question seventeen different, exotic answers. Hula dancer, bikini waxer, professional human being (it was his favorite so far), tattoo artist and others of the like._

_"No! Not a banger-man!" The younger boy yelled at him frustrated. He never knew why he was always so timid when he asked or why he was never able to name his dream profession, "You know what I meant! I wanna be a driver!" He had said it. It never changed when he asked his older brother. Maybe the interpretations of profession changed but that was it._

_"Yeah, I did know..." Jordan sighed as his laughter slowly cam to a halt. He always cracked himself up. "You probably could... As long as you don't put on more than..." He paused to look his brother over, "Ninety pounds." He concluded but quickly added "And don't forget to run daily and do about two hundred push-ups a day." when his brother was about o interject._

_"What? What'd'ya mean 'push-ups'? Do they enhance driving ability or something?" He questioned his brother. _

_More than once, his brother had played practical jokes on him, making him do ridiculous things like the time when they sat in their parents' car waiting for them to finally get out the door. In his boredom, Squall had noticed a button that said 'Touch'. Squall, being a very curious child, asked Jordan what the button did. Jordan told him to push it. He knew that nothing would happen since the car was even started. So Squall pushed it, not realizing that nothing would happen. And sure enough, nothing did happen. Squall asked Jordan why it didn't work and Jordan said it was because he wasn't jumping up and down when he pushed it. Squall pushed the button while jumping up an down and, once again, nothing happened. Jordan said that it was because he was supposed to jump up and down on one foot. Squall did as he was told and still, nothing happened. Then Jordan said that he had confused it with another and told Squall to rub his stomach and pat hi head at the same time while pushing the button. It still didn't work. Jordan had fed him various, ridiculous scenarios and Squall continuously fell for them. When their parents had finally left the house, they got to their car seeing their son flapping his arms like a chicken with is left foot on the 'Touch' button._

_"So you can run your ass off after you crash your car." Jordan replied as if it were the common thing in the world._

_Squall was still confused. "That's the running... I asked about the push-ups."_

_Jordan continued his know-it-all facade, "So you can pull yourself out the window! Duh!" He explained. After a moment had passed, he quickly added in, "Besides, chicks dig big biceps."_

_"Oh... That sounds like a god reason... Unless they have cooties!" Squall said in comprehension._

_"So, you coming to the game tonight?" Jordan asked, holding up two tickets, changing the subject._

_"Yeah!" Squall yelled with enthusiasm._

***

I sat there quietly beside Selphie as we waited for time to pass by. Normally the drivers would be getting dressed but since I fell for Selphie's joke again, we were already dressed and ready to go.

She sat there singing some weird song or another and I sat beside her thinking about my bother. That was the last time I was ever able to ask him that question that always got on his nerves and I always found it funny. Even now I miss him.

We never had sibling rivalry fights, even though he nearly drowned me on vacation in Fisherman's Horizon...

***

_The Loire family ad taken a vacation to Fisherman's Horizon one summer. Their sons were just six and ten years of age. Their eldest son was a head taller than their youngest and loved it. He also had a few extra years of school more than his brother, which he used to his advantage. That wasn't to say that his brother was stupid either. He was smart for his age; but, it didn't stop him from falling for his brother's pranks._

_One fine morning, Laguna had decided to take his family snorkeling down at the beach. He had gone a couple times before but never with his wife, which was the main purpose of his expedition._

_Live fish terrified his wife, Raine. She had forbidden her sons from buying fish as pets and always made him cook fish whenever she was in the mood to eat the scaly creatures. But Laguna didn't know that she would also receive nightmares from encounter._

_As a joke, Laguna had slipped a slice of bread into the pocket of his trunks that he would take out while she was under water. His plan was perfect, ready to be executed. He was sure that his sons would like a good laugh so he ushered them out of their room and out the hotel._

_They walked down the beach to the shack that rented out the equipment necessary. His wife wasn't too keen on it but after it was declared a family activity, there was no way she would be able to escape. It was impossible. It was family life._

_Squall and Jordan were bored. Seeing fish up close and under water wasn't their idea of fun. After ten minutes of seeing their mother trying to worm her way out of seeing the fish up close, it was no longer fun. They wished they had thought of bringing a slice of bread with them but they had no time with their father breathing down their necks, urging them to move faster as they put their bathing suits on and throwing them out the hotel room door._

_The water was nice and warm and the sea called them. The two boys went in, impatient for their parents to finally go snorkeling. There weren't that many fish to be seen as of yet so they decided to have a little fun by wrestling in the water._

_As it was on land, Jordan had the size advantage over Squall and had pined him under water a couple times. As the time passed by, the more competitive they became._

_Eventually, Squall had managed to land a punch on Jordan's right eye, a definite shiner. It was also the trigger to the next move._

_Forgetting that he was fighting his brother, Jordan yelled out a string of curses (ones that his parents weren't supposed to hear) and seized his brother by his head and neck and plunged him under water without warning. _

_The younger Leonheart thrashed about, struggling for air. He was ready to pass out when he felt the hand on head and neck retreat. He resurfaced, gasping for air. When he opened his eyes, he saw that his brother was trying to cover up for why Squall had been submerged for so long to his mother._

_It turned out that Laguna was able to persuade her into the water. She had her goggles on and the mouthpiece of the tube was in. They were ready to go._

_They set out further into the ocean and decided on a spot that looked suitable for fish watching. They dove below and for a moment, there wasn't a fish to be seen... Until Laguna took out the piece of bread and gave it to Raine._

_Raine held the bread, confused. Why would her husband give her a slice of bread in the ocean? It was only when she saw a about four schools of fish flock towards her did she realize that the bread attracted the fish towards her. She was incapable of swimming away fast enough. The fish were all around her, nipping at her fingers and legs. She was terrified._

_Finally, her husband rescued her from the fish and brought her to shore. She wrapped herself in a blanket and locked herself in the hotel room for the remainder of the trip. She had nightmares at night about the fish and she had also forced Laguna to sleep on the couch while she slept in the bed. He was punished for the time being._

Squall and Jordan walked out of the water, laughing hysterically at their mother. They had forgotten what had happened before that for the moment just to make fun of their mother. It was a trip they would never forget.

***

We never really meant it every time we threatened each other. All those times that I would make a threat on his life, saying that I would smother him in his sleep with a pillow, I never meant it. I know for sure that every time he told me that he seize me by the neck and throw my head into mom's juicer, he never meant it either. We were just brothers who loved each other to death and expressed it by declaring threats on each other's lives. I never knew that he would die one day before I expected it to ever happen.

I was never told in great detail exactly what happened. They feared that it would scar me permanently and cost me more than the five years of therapy I already had. Either that or they feared that if I had had found out that he was stoned or drunk at the time it would cause me to think less of him.

But that's impossible. I idolized him far too much. Maybe that was it. Maybe my idolatry for him would cause me to walk down the same path. I doubt it. I never took drugs... Except for that time when my sweet tooth got the better of me at a party and cause me to devour our brownies laced with some drug or another. My mother wasn't very happy about it in the morning.

The intercom sounds in the room and some cheery voice tells us that it's to start. Great. Let's get this show on the road. But my mind wasn't focused on the race; it was focused on what I assumed was what had happened the day Jordan died and why I wasn't able to say "Goodbye" to him.

***

_A young man of sixteen years old stepped onto the pavement of the then quiet street facing Esthar High School. A smile graced his face ad he chuckled over the memory of his friend's idiocy during the course of the previous night. Sure, it was no different from the night before last but h never learned: never kiss a girl who's drunk and ready to puke (Squall had heard the story many times, all occurring on different dates)._

_He bent down to retrieve the lost football when, out of nowhere, a speeding car swerved from around the corner and down the street, never slowing down. It was only when he had hit the teen, wiping the mirth off his face, did he realize that he had committed a serious crime. Panic stricken, the driver continues, never once slowing down, as he drives out of sight. Why should he get sentenced to two to four years of prison because of a careless teen and his own stupidity?_

_Perhaps the answer lay in the six-pack he had downed before hopping in the car and racing down the street, trying to escape the demons that came to life after he fled the realm of sobriety._

_The teen had breathed his last breath and heart had beat its last beat. His brain had completely shut down and prepared for 'The Big Sleep' as his soul moved out of his body._

_ His friends are shocked beyond belief and there is nothing that the paramedics could do because no one had thought of calling E.M.S.* sooner. The shock of seeing a once laughing friend of theirs die before their eyes and fly over the hood of the car was being burned into their minds, marking them for life._

_Past flings and friends join around the teen's body to grieve over the loss of their friend. Somewhere in the back, someone has finally gotten the common sense to call an ambulance. Teachers had fled out of the school, trying to keep the crowd at bay._

***

I don't blame myself for being in detention that day, I blame that driver that took him away from me. I blame the sky for being blue, the grass for being green and the birds that chirped that morning and through out the course of the day. They were the signs that pointed to a cheerful day, one that would finish with all of us eating dinner at home. They pointed to a common everyday day... If that makes any sense.

We walk down the halls and to the garage where everyone's cars are parked. One by one the drivers climb in through the driver's side window and into to the seat behind the wheels. The ignitions turn and the engines start. Two by two, the cars leave the garage through the double garage doors.

We drive out to the track to see that the stands are crowded and the banners waving in the breeze. 

None of the drivers know it but all the way at the top of the bleachers, to dozen important figures, such as organizers and sponsors, are watching us in the top box, exactly two dozen of them. No more, no less. None of my drivers except myself. My brother had applied for a summer job at the track before he died and they said that he was to serve exactly twenty-four people in the top box. He had told me this and said that one day it might be important to know or something like that.

That fateful day, the mighty smighter had smote me in a place where it hurt more: my heart.

"This is for you, Jordan." I whispered as the light turned green.

*Emergency Medical Service

**A/N:** Hey! Aren't y'all happy that I updated this quickly? Well, ok, it wasn't that quick but it **is** compared to all other updates... I think... Whatever. If you want me to write faster, write me a review that provides more than just a "Good chappie. Update soon." I know how boring those are... **I** used to write them! So I apologize to all authors to whom I wrote such a lame review to you. So, If you say 'Good chappie' tell me **WHY**. See you all in the next chapter! By the way: Random html tags are not my fault; they are the markings of incompetence.

**Sabam:** Well, sorry I stole your miracle buddy but then again, you **want** your exams… meh… Glad you like my 'Rinoa's-a-blimp' idea… it was a mean one but whatever. And yes, I know you love her character too much to do something like that… And Squall, well, keep dreaming. See you later, my friend! 

**DBH:** Glad it's enjoyable. 

**Rhi-an:** Good to know that it isn't hopeless… And glad I got you intrigued and hope this was relatively soon. 

**Kool Kaizer:** Glad you don't think my story is hopeless/useless either… Hope the party was fun… Thanks for the encouragement! 

**Rinoa36:** Glad (I think I over-used that word right now) that your opinon of my story is that 'it's awesome'… And I'm proud of those lines about Viagra… they're true! 

**darkcloud:** Yup, school and projects suck… What can you do about it though? 

**Verdanii:** Dude, you reviewed almost every chapter! Thanks, man! Glad you like my story! 

**Karla3:** Glad you liked the last chapter… How does this one fare?  *anxious to know what she thinks*

**omnitoad:** ^.^;;

**Renegade Seraph:** I'd be glad to have **a** car. Hope you like the story! 

**angel-brokensorrow:** Happy to have your attention! And I'm  sure that you're a good writer… I mean, I'm not **that** great… At least I don't think so…

_Smiles all around!_


	13. Drive

_A/N: Please don't hurt me. It took me forever to get back into the writing mood. I don't think I suffered a writer's block… I think I suffered from a lack of interest in continuing the story. But I said it earlier somewhere that I'm more of a writer than I am an artist but more of a scientist than I am a writer. Briefly, I was too distracted by reading about chemicals and explosives than characters and automobiles._

_**Chapter 13: Drive **_

_I've got to wonder why no one ever wants to hear my point of view on things? Am I that boring? Or am I only the comic relief? Whatever. You shall now listen to the all-mighty Selphie because I say so. So._

My fellow driver and companion Squall seemed very much out of it as we walked towards our separate cars. His eyes were cloudy, as if the glaze on doughnuts had gone straight to his eyes, making it harder to see into his soul. He blinked a few times and the cloudy look evaporated out of his eyes and they became steely and empty. He climbed into his car and didn't return the jest of wishing me good luck.

I don't blame him: today is a pretty important day. There's the morning's race wherein only the top thirty drivers would make it to this afternoon's race. Thirty of the fifty that showed up would move on; twenty will be cut. Those twenty might stick around to see the outcome or they might leave, calling their driving bullshit and how the other guys had cut them off or how they had almost died when they crashed into the tires along the track. It's a pretty big deal. I wonder if the organizers even cared about those who didn't make the cut?

Anyway, we sat in our respective cars as we waited for the light to turn green. There was a minute that was to pass by before the cars would get the chance to go once around the track with the lead car before the actual bumping and grinding (not the dirty kind, you perverts) would begin.

The top pair of red lights went out before the second pair lit up. Forty-five second to wait. I looked to the drivers to my left and to my right. They looked ready to try to squish my car to a pulp. I couldn't wait to see them try.

The red lights went out and the yellow ones lit up. Ten seconds to go. The engines began to reeve as the drivers kept their foot on the gas petal but the hand brake locked. You'd think that the time between lights would be consistent. But this is a profession where anything can happen. The car in front of you could blow up and you'd think it was normal. It's also a profession of reflexes.

The green light lit up and rubber was burned as the cars sped off behind the lead car. The pure white car drove past the bleachers with us to follow them. Behind me, I could her one car crash into the bumper of the one in front of it: car number 44 had crashed into car number 34. Number 34 did not have the chance to release the hand brake and things went downhill from there for them. I suppose that leaves only eighteen more to cut.

We drove straight for quite some time, the people flying by and the cars shown one by one on the big screen TV. I smiled as I passed the TV and saw Squall's steely gaze on the road ahead of him, almost as he were studying the terrain. I realized that it wasn't a particularly bad strategy and did so myself but my high school teachers would tell you that I was brilliant but lazy. I stopped as soon as the asphalt changed to gravel and then dirt. Up ahead, I saw something bright reflect off the ground only to realize that it was water. There was a gigantic puddle ahead. And there was a sign next to it on the right: we were going to have to turn right in the puddle. This was something that I had never seen before. I could easily look out my windows to look at the other drivers and see that they were quite taken aback by the sign.

There were right turns upon left turns and U-turns and wrong ways, short cuts and lengthy paths. This was a tack that required a map. It required a map that neither of us had. It was an unorthodox track and a challenge for even the most experienced drivers.

Eventually, we reached the stands again and the white car drove to the side: the race had finally truly begun.

As we passed the starting line, we could see that car number 34 and number 44 had been removed and the drivers stood on the sidelines yelling and shoving one another. I could only imagine the amount of embarrassment the two had to endure while everyone drove past them.

Not even three feet past the starting line and the cars began to break away from the original formation. I felt the car that had be next to mine bump into me. However it wasn't a bump because for five feet, I could see the driver's grinning face as he forced his car next to mine, trying to slow me down. Not one to take such bullshit, I pushed the gas pedal a little bit more, gradually increasing speed. I pulled halfway up his car when his car swerved out of his control. He had applied so much force on my car that when it left, it had nowhere else to go but into the air. The 100 Newton's-per-square-inch atmospheric pressure did less than nothing to help him regain control. I saw car number 32 crash into the tires on the side. Seventeen left.

I could hear the announcer's voice boom over the intercom, announcing what was happening to the cheering crowd. I could feel the terrain alter into the gravel as I snaked through the cars. A particular detail caught my eye as I looked for the next opening to pass through: Squall was second to a license plate that belonged to only one person: Seifer Almasy.

Exiting the shifty terrain, I zipped through an opening that brought me to third. With a hundred and fifty yards before the finish line, I pushed hard into the gas pedal, as did Squall and Seifer.

Squall pulled into the first position but was still fighting for the lead with Seifer and I.

To decide who had crossed the line first, a picture was taken as well as shots from all different angles. The checkered flag was waved and within the next five minutes, all of the remaining drivers passed the finish line.

The first round had only one lap to it but the second round this afternoon had three. This afternoon was the first of the races, the last taking place Tuesday afternoon where the winner would be announced.

The cars gradually came to a halt and everyone gathered outside of their cars. An organization representative came to meet us on the sidelines.

"I know you're all wondering who came in first but I can't tell you: I don't know myself. The review board is upstairs trying to determine the winner as we speak. If you wouldn't mind, you'll have to wait for ten minutes to see who got cut and what your times were. It you would like, you can all go wait inside the building where we've set up an after race buffet where you can eat in the mean time." The pudgy man said.

I walked through the crowd and found Squall. He hadn't seen me yet as I was right behind him and, without thinking, I hugged him from behind. I felt him jump three feet into the air before his hands circled my wrists and he pried me off his back. He had a smile on his face but a threat in his voice.

"Don't do that. Especially not here."

"Okay." I said. I could hear the other drivers around us give out wolf whistles and catcalls. Squall blushed and I smiled. They knew nothing and nothing was what their thoughts were.

"Now, I'm hungry. Let's go eat." He said as we followed the rest of the drivers. His eyes became cloudy once more, as if his thoughts were buried in the past that was long behind him.

We walked through the double doors, past the locker rooms and found the buffet table. There were plates upon plates of food. We picked out food and sat down across one another near the standings board.

The same representative excused himself for disturbing us before removing the board from it's current position on the wall and carrying it away with him, back up the stairs and into one of the offices above.

We heard an exchange of formalities above us before the sound of heels clicking on the marble stairs echoed throughout the hallway. All eyes turned upwards to see Rinoa Heartilly descend the stairs with a smile on her face: a forced smiled. Her eyes betrayed her facial features and her thoughts screamed at the distortion of her face pulled into a mask of utter deceit. I'm a girl; I can sense these things at the mere sight of them.

"Congratulations on a race well driven today. It's not the easiest race out there; you are, after all, the best that there is in the world of racing. At the same time, it's not the easiest track either. I've driven the track a few times and I must say, don't let the bumpiness of it all get to you. After a while, you get used to it… But I suppose that you would all know of it better than I do." She said, an ambassador of her father's. That was, after all, the reason for the distaste in her eyes.

She continued down the stairs and talked to the drivers, trying to make the pleasantries less painful. She made her way through the crowd and stopped at our table. She congratulated us once more on the heart-stopping leap at the finish line. Her eyes smiled in admiration at me while they clouded over with disdain at Squall.

Squall gave her a confused look but she said nothing more and merely walked on, stopping to talk to the drivers.

"Jeeze, what'd you do to her?" I asked Squall.

"Does this look like a face that knows?" He asked as he pointed to his face, "I didn't think so. Trust me though, if I knew, I would've tried to justify long ago."

"Hm. Maybe it's something that you did in your past? Did you know her then?" I asked. I could feel that I was on the right track but I also had the feeling that Squall wouldn't remember it even if it meant his life.

"I don't think so. I would remember such a pretty face." He said. That was a minor detail that he would never remember. Long ago, her face wasn't the prettiest thing out there.

I was about to tell him when the chubby representative came down holding the standings board. Rinoa saw him and excused herself from the current driver that she was talking to before cutting through the crowd to take a stand on the stairs.

"Gentlemen, and lady, we have here the results of today's race. In third place we have Ms. Selphie Tilmitt. In second, we have Mr. Squall Leonheart. In first place, we have Mr. Seifer Almasy." Rinoa announced. It wasn't the standing that Squall wanted to hear but at this point, all that mattered was that he had made this afternoon. As for me, I didn't mind third place although I had a craving to take down Seifer. The air around that man screamed out "_Asshole!_"

Squall pulled a smile on his face so that he would not seem as shallow as he felt. I didn't mind third place, it was a place that had to be conquered before you could move forward. It's a cozy spot that will change this afternoon and change once more over the next few days.

Squall and I left the hall, completely forgetting about the topic that we spoke of earlier since we were absorbed in talking about the days to come and predicting what those who were cut were going to do and how they felt. But the later was easier to guess than the former.

_A/N: Oi! Guess what! I'm not dead yet and this story just transcended all my expectations (I.E: not to continue because I'd lost mind in an ocean named Ignorance). But I'm alive and well and good fucking god, it's late… or early. Depends on which day you're in. It's kinda late, this chapter may sound rushed but I just wrote and I have no idea what I'm doing. I can't tell the difference between my ass and my elbow when it comes to the direction of the story but I'll manage. I hope you aren't mad at me for taking my sweet time here but I haven't really felt the writing vibe lately. Anyway, criticism is good, blatant or constructive shall take it. Just **REVIEW**. Thanks-a-many._


	14. Black Cross

**A/N: Hey! Another update in the same season! It's amazing, isn't it? Thank Sabam for pushing my ass to write it.**

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**_Chapter 14: Black Cross Rinoa's POV_**

After the formalities had been taken care of, I briskly strode out of the hall, famished, in dire need of lunch. Sure, there was a buffet laid out there but I didn't really like the idea of all the drivers standing there, watching me stuff my face. I knew for a fact that I could shove a large quantity of food in my mouth all at once. So, I decided to power-walk to the limo and have Louis drive me to my favorite restaurant: _Black Cross_.

I found Louis to the left of the main entrance, goofing around with some of the other limo drivers. They were laughing over one of Louis' stories… From the looks of it, it was about the store in the mall where you could make your own teddy bear that he aptly described as "the world's most humiliating store disguised as a toy store."

He told the story all the time. He figured that a mall full of people had already seen him make a fool of himself in the store so what did it matter to add a few drivers to the list of people?

"Hey Louis! I need to go get something to eat. Sorry, guys." I called to the group of laughing men. Their faces looked downtrodden when they realized that I was taking away the source of their amusement.

Louis walked over, disappointment written all over his face. He opened the door for me and I climbed in. He closed it after me and walked around back to the driver's seat. He started the engine of the black beast and set the wheels in motion.

"Where to, Miss Rinoa?" He asked me courteously.

"Louis, how many times must I remind you to simply call me Rinoa?"

"As many times as I'd have to remind you to call me Lou."

"Fair enough. Black Cross, _Lou_."

"Yes, _Rinoa_."

"Hey, Lou? Tell me that story you were telling the guys before?"

"Alright. Well, my sister had recently had a baby and I was in the Deling Mall and I saw a shop where you could make and dress your own stuffed bears. I thought it'd be a cute idea to walk in and make the kid a bear. But I saw a monkey and figured he'd like it better. So, I picked out the monkey, brought it to the sales clerk for her to stuff but she brought me to the front of the store in stead, and made me jump on a mat so that the stuffing would come out of what looked like a giant cotton candy machine. And the mat, when you jumped on it in the right places, it belted out a stereotypical rock song riff… The kind you'd hear in a wannabe punk song.

"After I was finished stuffing the bear, she gave me a star to put in the monkey but before I put it in, I had to do 'Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes' first. She was all, 'Do you remember that from kindergarten?' and I thought, 'Hell yeah! That was the first time I saw a girl's underwear.' But that day, I was wearing a pair of slacks that had shrunk in the wash. Anyway, we got to the 'Knees and toes' part and when I bent over to touch my toes, I heard a very loud 'Rrrrip' come from my rear. I had torn my pants in the process. And I didn't even realize that there was a crowd watching me in front of the store until I heard a loud roar of laughter.

"Anyway, I finished making the damned monkey, wished to hell that the kid wouldn't have to do this ever and walked the hell out of the store. That place is the world's most humiliating shop disguised as a toys store."

Louis finished his story as we pulled into the parking lot. He had managed to cheer me up so I told him to park the car and eat with me.

We walked into the restaurant, and had the waiter seat us at a table for two. Normally Louis doesn't eat with me because he "can feel all the men looking at us, as if to say, 'What the hell is that chick doing with that loser?'" but today I insisted. I didn't like to eat alone at the bar with the weirdoes.

John, the waiter that I had come on a first name basis with, came to talk to us, to see what's new, before a bitchy woman snapped for his attention. He rolled his eyes and excused himself. Deep down, I pitied the poor man and yet I admired him for not lashing out at the poodle-like woman.

"So, why did you request for me to dine with you today? Not that I don't enjoy your company but the curiosity is eating at my insides." Louis asked me nicely but still managed to temporarily ensnare my hunger.

"Well, on a much cleaner and less grotesque note, I insisted that you eat with me today is simply because I enjoy your company. And-" At that moment, something had caught my attention.

Two tables across from us I saw a certain Mr. Squall Leonheart seated with Ms. Selphie Tilmitt in what looked to be a very enrapturing conversation. I felt a slight pang of jealousy towards Selphie but I knew that they were only friends. At the same time, I was mentally kicking myself for pushing Squall away.

In front of me, I heard Louis call my name. I blushed. It was very impolite of me to divert my attention from my lunch guest.

"Sorry Louis. It's just that-"

"You have feelings for the guy and can't help but stare at him when he's not looking and thinking very dirty thoughts in various positions?" He cut me off.

I turned another shade of red and couldn't help but reach across the table and smack him upside the head for that very rude and, although I'd never admit it, accurate remark.

"That is for me to know and you to hope to cheese you never find out. Furthermore, that was a very rude assumption." I scolded him. He was very lucky that I don't have the heart to fire people that I've grown to be very good friends with over the course of three and a half years.

"Terribly sorry but my sense of humor had been tweaked that way ever since my last days of innocence in high school. I'm the poor victim of education."

"Of course you are." I replied skeptically.

At that moment, John had returned to take our orders. He asked if we were terribly hungry and when we replied not entirely, he sat down with us once more. He told us about how his wife was constantly nagging him about some mysterious clutter that he could never see and how one day, she was fed up with him so she sent him to the eye-doctor who diagnosed him with clutter-blindness and told him that ninety-nine percent of the male populations suffered from it.

He told us about how his little girl constantly cried in the night and how his wife always sent him to go check on her. He explained that she was the exact reason why he's loosing his hair so soon.

Once more, the poodle-like lady snapped her fingers at him and he immediately went to attend to her. Honestly, I still admire him for not lashing out at her. I knew that by the second time that she snapped her claw-like fingers at me, I would have pulled her afro of white hair out of her head. It's a good thing that John doesn't think like I do, else he would've been fired long ago.

Louis began to tell me about some crazy girl has been stalking him for months now. I couldn't help but pity him. I tormented him with the idea of her showing up right then and there with the assumption that they were a couple. At the moment, Louis' "Spider sense" began to tingle. He said that there was a "gentleman staring" at us.

I turned my head around to see whom it was only to find a certain Mr. Leonheart staring at us. It was very rude too… His mouth was hanging open. I saw John walk past his table but Squall called for his attention but Selphie cut him off. My only guess was that a certain male driver was about to get boozed up before another race that afternoon. I smirked as I watch the scene unfold. John managed to escape but Squall was the fallen comrade, left to be tortured by enemy scolding, performed by Selphie.

John came over after that incident with our food. He sat down with us and began to tell us more tales from the crypt keeper he avidly calls home. He told us how his wife Lucy isn't entirely horrible when the baby was off at her mothers and there wasn't anything around for her to clean.

Half way through our lunch, Squall and Selphie had finished and left. I found myself wondering why it was that they had gone to Black Cross to dine.

John left our table once more to attend to the poodle woman. During his time away, Louis and I finished our lunch and were talking about music and pop culture in general. John came over, took our plates away, took our dessert orders, returned with the pastries and joined in our conversation.

"Some guy once said that music was the most expensive form of noise. I forget who it was though…" John managed to say before the clicking of fingers whisked him away.

"Hey! Junior! If you want a tip, be sure to learn from this lesson. I don't want to have to snap my fingers at you every time I need for water for my dentures, sonny." The old broad snapped at him. Once again, I was very surprised to see that he was still very polite towards the nuisance of an old lady.

We finished our pastries, I paid for the meal and we left John with the words, "Good luck." I felt bad leaving the guy there with a hag who was disrespectful in every sense of the word. Okay, fine, there's only one sense of the word 'disrespectful' but hush no one likes a know-it-all.

We walked into the parking lot, got back into the limo once more and drove back to the track. It was now one thirty and the race was two o'clock. I knew that my father would have a fit seeing as I wasn't back at the office yet but that was his problem.

"Hey Lou, take the longest path possible."

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**A/N: Oooh… Looky, looky! It's a finished chapter! And um, yeah. Review and tell me what you think. And while you're at it, go ahead, tell me what a lazy author I am! The shot's for free!**

**By the way (singsI tried to say I'd be there, waiting for, Dani the girl is singing song to me beneath the marquee, overload! Whooo! I needed to get that out of my system… Not that it'd ever leave), the guy who said that music is the most expensive form of noise was Oscar Wilde and he was tone-deaf. Poor bugger, doesn't know what he'd missed out on.**


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